


Share My Forever, Love

by psyraah



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Shiro's Captivity, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2018-12-13 03:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11750895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psyraah/pseuds/psyraah
Summary: Takashi meets Keith the day after he turns six.From then on, they're best friends. Inseparable, they think, forever and ever and ever. Except for when Shiro goes away to the Garrison, and carelessly leaves Keith behind. Except for when Shiro goes to Kerberos, and Keith loses him all over again.But there's one promise he whispers in his heart when he is six, forgets all together in the midst of graduation, and tells to the stars when he's taken by the Galra.He will always come home.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [caustically](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caustically/gifts), [shialatier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shialatier/gifts).



> *nervously tap dances on stage* So I've been sitting on this story for a little bit now, and so it's pre-season 3. So spoiler free, but it does cross over the season 2 finale, but written at the point where I didn't know what would happen, so I guess it could be counted as canon-divergent at that point? It's a 37k chunk of fluff, hurt/comfort, and Sheith feelings. 
> 
> Thank you to my two wonderful artists, not only for their art and hard work but for friendship and constant encouragement as well. Robert's wonderfully adorable pic from chapter 1 can be found [here](http://overcaustically.tumblr.com/post/164117950422/my-first-piece-for-the-voltronbang-for-psyraahs), and [Shia](http://www.shialatier.tumblr.com) will be posting for later chapters. I am super, super grateful. [Sochan's](http://www.captainshirogane.tumblr.com) beautiful banner is also gorgeous and I am eternally grateful, and I am also very grateful to [Getti](http://www.gettigram.tumblr.com) for reading over this for me, and all my other friends who I've been teasing with previews for months now for their encouragement and mutual screaming. Red also for birthing the spitfire nickname. 
> 
> This is all complete, so I will be updating twice a week! Welcome and I hope you enjoy the ride :) 
> 
> OK THAT'S ENOUGH THANKING, PLEASE ENJOY.
> 
> Forgot to note: chunks of dialogue in italics are Shiro and his dad speaking in Japanese.

Takashi meets Keith the day after he turns six.

He’s in the park with his dad, on his favourite swing set, because swings mean you get to fly, and Takashi wants to fly one day. His dad pushes him high, higher, even _higher_ , and Takashi’s giggling and laughing, thinking about what it would be like to get to the fluffy white clouds he can see floating up above.

But then his dad’s slowing him down, and Takashi comes back down to Planet Earth.

“ _Dad_?”

His dad smiles, the sun all shiny on his glasses. “ _You’ve been on for a little while now, and I think we might have a friend that might want a turn_.”

Takashi gets excited hearing that, and hops off the swing like he’s asked. He looks around for his new friend, smiling a lot when he sees another boy standing just behind his dad.

“Hi! I’m Takashi,” he says, smiling more. His dad says smiling makes people happy, so Takashi tries to do it a lot.

The other boy looks a little bit scared. He’s got long hair (black like Takashi’s, which is cool), and a really red t-shirt. Takashi doesn’t know why the boy’s scared, but it’s okay. Takashi’s dad is here, and that means there’s nothing to be scared of.

The other boy doesn’t talk. He just looks at Takashi, and then up at the swing.

“Do you wanna swing?” Takashi asks. “Dad’s really good at it, he makes you go really high.”

The other boy looks back at Takashi, and comes a bit closer. “Really high?” He speaks really quiet, and Takashi can just hear him.

“Really!” Takashi pulls on his dad’s hand, looking up. “Will you, Dad?”

His dad laughs, and he fluffs Takashi’s hair. “Of course. Does our new friend have a name?”

Takashi doesn’t know, so he looks at the other boy. “What’s your name?”

“Keith.” It’s real quiet again, but it’s a nice name.

“It’s Keith,” Takashi tells his dad, excited.

“Hello, Keith. I’m Uncle Hiroshi. Would you like to swing?”

Keith nods, and now he’s smiling a little too. Takashi wants Keith to like his dad, so that makes him happy, especially when Keith walks forward and grabs onto his dad’s hand. His dad helps Keith jump on the swing, and Takashi’s really excited to see how high Keith can go.

“Push Keith as high as me, Dad!”

“I’ll try as hard as I can. Ready, Keith?”

Keith nods, holding onto the chains of the swing carefully and kicking his feet. They don’t touch the ground, not like Takashi’s, and his red shoes dangle in the air.

Takashi laughs when his dad pushes Keith. His dad is huffing and puffing because he’s so tired from pushing Takashi already; he’s heavy, his dad says, because he’s growing up.

“Watch me jump that high!”

“You think you can do it, Takashi?”

“Yeah.” Takashi takes a deep breath, then runs forward, his feet making a _thump thump thump_ on the scratchy floor. He tries to jump, he tries _really_ hard, but he doesn’t think he gets to where Keith is. But it’s still fun, because his dad is telling him to jump, and Keith’s laughing when he goes higher and higher.

But after a little bit, his dad lets Keith come back down. “Are your parents here, Keith?”

Keith shakes his head. “No, I don’t—I have Kimi.”

Takashi doesn’t know that word. He has a friend called Kimmy at school, but Kimmy’s not big enough to be a parent. “What’s a Kimi?”

Keith scrunches up his forehead. “She’s…Kimi. She looks after me.”

Dad has his thinking face on. It’s the one he gets when he’s sitting at home in front of his tablet and it’s really close to Takashi’s bedtime, but Takashi doesn’t know why he’s thinking in the middle of the day.

“I see.” His dad’s voice is all soft and nice, like when he tucks Takashi in at night and he talks about spaceships and planets. There’s Jupiter and Mercury and Mars, and then there’s his dad smiling really happy, and the little good night kisses to Takashi’s forehead before the light turns off. “Did Kimi give you more time to play?”

Keith nods. “We’re here for a hour, then we need to go back home.”

Takashi’s dad is smiling, and he still looks like he’s thinking. Takashi wants to know why, but his dad is already asking Keith something else.

“Can you point out Kimi for me?”

Keith points past the playground, but Takashi’s not tall enough to see. But his dad nods. “How about the two of you play in the sand pit for a while? I want to meet Kimi.”

Keith nods. “I need to get my bag.” Keith walks away for a moment, before he comes back with a blue backpack, and some scribbly yellow writing. It takes Takashi a little bit before he can read the words— _Sunnyside Orphanage_ —but even if he can read, he doesn’t really get what it means.

Before he can ask, his dad is reaching down for both their hands. Takashi takes his right one, and Keith slowly holds his other. They start to walk to the sandpit.

“We can build a castle,” Keith says, and he’s smiling really wide.

“You sure can. Now, stay put, okay? Don’t leave the sand pit.”

Takashi and Keith both nod. Then Keith lets go of Takashi’s dad, and starts pulling Takashi along. “C’mon, Takashi!”

“Hey, wanna see where I lost my tooth?” Takashi shows Keith how his front tooth is missing, on the left—no, right side, on the top. Keith is staring, and his eyes are blue-purple-black. It’s a cool colour; Takashi just has brown, though his dad says that it’s really pretty anyway. “Dad says it’ll grow back, but. ‘Cause big people have big people teeth, and it means I’m growing up, he says.”

Keith nods. “Marie has one, but Kimi says I don’t lose teeth yet.”

“How many years old are you?”

Keith lets go of Takashi’s hand to pick up a big stick, and he starts digging in the sandpit to get to the nice soft sand, which is smart. “Four.”

“That’s cool! I just turned six years old.”

Keith gets quiet, but he starts pushing sand into a pile. Takashi wants to help, but Keith shakes his head and protects the pile with his hands. “You can’t help, you’re not allowed.”

That doesn’t make Takashi feel nice. “Why?”

“I’m making your six year old birthday cake. You can’t help.”

Takashi smiles, because that’s nice. “It’s not my birthday _today_ , it was yesterday. Um. Kind of.” He doesn’t really understand. His dad has explained it before, but all Takashi can remember is learning about calendars and leap frogs. But what’s important is that his dad always makes him cake, even if it’s a not-really-birthday birthday.

Keith’s looking down at the pile of sand in front of his legs, confused. “Oh.”

“But we can make it into a castle!” Takashi says. It’s a castle now, which means he’s allowed to help, and Keith lets him. He finds some crunchy leaves to put on top for the flags, and some rocks for guards.

Takashi sees his dad talking to another lady, one with long hair in a swishy ponytail.

“That’s Kimi,” Keith says, putting sand in their pile. “She’s nice. Our castle should have windows.” He pats the sand down, and starts drawing zigzag lines for the windows.

Takashi smiles. “Yeah.”

He puts a rock on top of their castle, and Keith helps him squish it into the sand so that it stays properly. It’s one of the first things they share with each other, and Takashi is so happy.

* * *

Keith is five, and Takashi is his best friend for a year. He also just started school, which is exciting even if he’s still not as old as Takashi, because Takashi is grade three now and Keith’s only in prep. But they go to the same school, so even if they aren’t in the same grade, Keith still gets to see Takashi a lot at recess and lunch, which makes him really happy.

Keith still goes home with Kimi. Keith asked if he could live with Takashi, but Kimi laughed and said not yet, but maybe when Keith is older. He likes the idea of living with Takashi, because Takashi is his best friend and it would be really fun.

Roofs should be…red.

Keith colours in the…triangle using his red crayon (the best one). He’s drawing the house that him and Takashi are going to live in when they’re grown up, and it’s got blue windows and a red roof and long grass in front.

Then the front door bangs shut, and Keith hears Kimi’s voice.

Oh!

Keith jumps out of his chair and starts running to the front door, before he remembers that he’s not allowed to run inside and so he slows down a little. But he still walks super fast to get to the door, because he needs to ask Kimi something.

She’s still standing at the door, taking off her shoes and talking to Aaron. Keith slows down and tries not to talk when other people are talking, but he’s just so _excited_.

“Kimi?”

And even though Keith is talking when other people are talking, Kimi just stops talking to Aaron and looks at Keith, smiling. Keith likes Kimi. She’s always nice to him.

“Hey there, Keith. What can I do for you?”

“Can I play with Takashi on Sat—Sunday?” He can’t really remember which day, but he thinks Uncle Hiroshi said Sunday. “Sunday,” he says again.

“Will there be someone to look after you and Takashi?”

Keith nods. “Uncle Hiroshi says we can go to the shops. He says it’s Takashi’s birthday soon.”

“Oh, really? How old is he?”

“Seven.” It’s a lot of years, and Keith can’t stop smiling because it’s so special. “He’s almost a grown-up.”

Keith doesn’t know why Kimi laughs, but she does. But it’s okay, because it’s not a mean laugh. It’s a nice one, and that makes it okay.

(Sometimes the kids in his class have a mean laugh because Keith doesn’t have two grown ups looking after him; he only has Kimi, or Martha, or Aaron. But it’s okay, because Takashi never laughs at him, which means Takashi is his friend.)

“He is almost grown up, isn’t he? Well, if you go to sleep early on Saturday, then it should be fine. I’ll talk to Takashi’s daddy after school on Friday, okay?”

Keith smiles, excited. “Thanks, Kimi.”

* * *

Friday comes, and they’re flying to Mars when Keith tells Takashi that Kimi said yes. Then they forget about Mars and the moon and they’re talking about what Takashi wants for his birthday and what kind of cake he’s going to get.

“I’m having a party with Dad and Grandma too on Sunday. Dad says you can come!”

Keith is surprised; he’s never been to a party before. Some of the other kids have them, but he never seems to get invited. “I can?”

“Mhm! Dad says I can have anyone I want to come, and I want you to come.”

For the rest of Friday, Keith smiles whenever he remembers Takashi saying that.

Then it’s Sunday and they’re walking through the shopping centre with Uncle Hiroshi. He’s holding Keith’s right hand, and Takashi is holding Keith’s left one. It’s kind of funny, because one arm is a lot higher than the other, because Uncle Hiroshi is way taller, but it still makes Keith happy because now he has two friends.

They walk a _lot_ , trying to find Takashi the right birthday present. Takashi picked Keith in the morning, and they have burgers for lunch and ice-cream after, and Keith’s feet are starting to hurt a little when Takashi finally finds something.

“That one, Dad!” he yells, and runs away.

Keith holds onto Uncle’s Hiroshi’s hand a bit tighter, just in case he runs away too. He feels better when Uncle Hiroshi squeezes his hand. It feels safe, solid, and warm.

“Slow down, Takashi. Wait for me and Keith here.”

They walk over to where Takashi is, holding up a big panda soft toy. “This one!” he says again, smiling really happily. Keith knows that it would be something that Takashi likes: it’s black and white, but it has a big purple ribbon on it, and purple is Takashi’s favourite colour.

(It’s why Keith likes his own eyes, because Takashi had been really _happy_ when he found out that Keith had purple eyes.)

“That the one you want?”

“Yep!” Takashi hugs the panda tight, the same way he hugs Keith when they’re not going to see each other on the weekend. “I like her.”

“Anything you like, Keith?”

Keith looks up at Uncle Hiroshi when he asks, because that doesn’t make sense. “It’s not my birthday.”

But Uncle Hiroshi moves his shoulders. “Doesn’t have to be your birthday for you to like something.”

Oh. That’s right too.

So Keith looks around, still holding onto Uncle Hiroshi’s hand, because Kimi says they should always have a grown-up with them. There’s a blue dolphin and it’s nice, but it’s not a _favourite_. Next to the dolphin there is a yellow dinosaur, but that’s not a favourite too.

Next to the dinosaur is a fat, red kitty.

Keith smiles, and points. “That one.”

“The cat?”

Keith nods his head. She’s his favourite.

Then Uncle Hiroshi crouches down to talk to Takashi and…they’re hiding secrets together. Keith can tell because Uncle Hiroshi is talking in whispers to Takashi, and Keith knows that when people whisper, it’s because they don’t want him to hear.

But he _wants_ to know what they’re talking about. Takashi has secrets with Keith (like how Keith doesn’t have a mum, not really, or how Takashi is afraid of butterflies), but Keith doesn’t like Takashi having secrets with someone else.

Then Takashi gives his panda to his dad, who lets go of Keith’s hand. “Uncle?” But Uncle Hiroshi shakes his head, and just smiles. Takashi goes to get the red kitty, and Keith doesn’t know why, but he’s holding it behind his back. Keith doesn’t know, and Keith has to know: “what’s the secret?”

But Takashi shakes his head. “No secret.” He’s smiling, and Keith stops being that little bit scared. When Takashi smiles, things are okay.

And then Takashi gives him the red kitty, and Keith just looks at him for a really long time.

“It’s yours,” Takashi says, really quiet. “Dad says you can get her!”

Keith looks at Uncle Hiroshi, patting the kitty. Her fur is soft, and it’s such a nice colour. She’s a really big cat, and Keith can’t really carry her very easy. But he’s big enough that he can try. “I can have her?”

“Yeah! They can be best friends, like us!” Takashi is jumping around, and he pushes his panda against Keith’s kitty like they’re hugging. They’re friends.

“We thought you might like one too, Keith,” Uncle Hiroshi says, and his smile is the same as Takashi’s: happy and wide, and it makes Keith feel safe.

“Thank you,” he whispers, and cuddles his kitty close. “Thank you for sharing.”

Takashi shakes his head. “It’s not mine, so it’s not sharing. She’s all for you.”

And Keith smiles, happy.

* * *

Takashi loves school holidays. Christmas is almost here (only two days away!), Takashi’s dad is home almost all the time, and him and Keith get to hang out a lot at his house. In fact, Keith’s coming over right now for a Christmas celebration, just Keith, Takashi, and his dad.

Which is good, because Takashi has to show him something _now_.

Takashi has just finished eating lunch. It’s five minutes past one, and Keith said he was going to leave his house about one o’clock. The lady he lives with—Barbara, Takashi remembers—is driving him over, and usually that takes less than ten minutes.

That means Keith is almost here.

“ _Takashi, I know you’re excited, but try to calm down a little bit_ ,” his dad says, and Takashi tries his best to stop squirming on the couch.

“ _But Dad, he’s going to like it so much_ ,” Shiro says. He _can’t_ sit still when he just wants to share his happiness with Keith. “ _He’s going to be so excited. Red’s his favourite colour.”_

“ _I know, I know_.” His dad points to some packets of nuts they got from the supermarket yesterday, and Takashi gets up to grab them, pouring them into some bowls lined up on the coffee table. “ _But you have to wait a little bit. Patience yields focus, remember?_ ”

Takashi nods, deliberately slowing down a little bit. “ _Yes. It’s—it’s better to take your time with things sometimes, and think things through so that you can do your best. But I don’t get it._ ” He puts the empty packets in the rubbish bin, and sits back down. “ _Keith being happy_ would _be the best, so wouldn’t it be better for him to get here faster so he can be happy quicker?_ ”

His dad looks surprised for a moment, before he laughs. “ _Yes, I guess you have a point there. But Keith will arrive when he arrives, and it is better to focus on what is here now. If you had been more distracted pouring walnuts into the bowl, maybe you would have made a bit of a mess, isn’t that right? It is better to be present. Patient.”_

Takashi still doesn’t _really_ get it, but he does a little bit, so he nods. “ _Okay_.”

But when there’s a knock on the door, he jumps up right away, grinning. “ _I’ll get it! It’s Keith!_ ” He grabs a package from the table, running to the door.

“ _Takashi, walk slowly!_ ”

Takashi stops running, walking quickly instead to get to the door and open it up.

“Keith!”

Keith has his backpack, and he’s smiling a little, the way that he usually does when he first arrives at Takashi’s place. “Hi, Takashi.”

“This is for you!” Takashi gives Keith his present, watching excitedly as Keith sees what the box is.

Keith’s eyes widen, and his smile gets bigger. “New Nintendo!”

“Yeah, and it comes with the games, and Dad got us Pokémon too!”

“Say ‘thank you’, Keith.” The woman who looks after Keith—Barbara, Takashi remembers—puts a hand on Keith’s shoulder, smiling.

“Um, th-thank you.” Keith’s still smiling, and he looks up when Takashi’s dad _finally_ gets to the door. “Hi, Uncle Hiroshi.”

“Hello, Keith. Do you like your Christmas present?”

Keith nods, clutching the box to his chest. “Yes, I do. Thank you.”

Takashi’s dad smiles. “You’re very welcome. I’m glad you like it. I know it’s not quite Christmas yet, but I thought you boys would want to play as soon as you could.”

Takashi nods, and grabs Keith’s hand. He really wants to play, and his dad will just talk about some things about work and school with Barbara. Takashi doesn’t want to be around for that. “Can we go play, Dad?”

“Yes, off you go. Look after Keith.”

That’s all the permission Takashi needs before he drags Keith to his room. “Come on, I want to show you the games!”

Keith’s still hugging the box, but he laughs and lets go of Takashi’s hand, running up the stairs. “Race you!”

“Hey, that’s not a fair start!” Takashi runs after him, but Keith’s too fast. He beats Takashi _every_ time, even if he doesn’t get the head start, so Takashi expects him to win this time as well. He’s not too upset when Keith actually does; he knows how quick his best friend is.

By the time Takashi makes it up to his room, Keith is already sitting on his bed, carefully unboxing his new console. He takes it out of the box slowly, like it’s something precious. “It’s red,” he breathes, and Takashi _knew_ that would make him happy. Red is Keith’s favourite colour. “I love it. Takashi it looks _so_ cool.”

“I have a black one,” Takashi says, and he grabs it off his desk, sitting on the bed to show Keith as well. “We can match. And we went out and got the Pokémon games this morning, here—” He puts his console on the bed, jumping back to his feet and getting his games before returning to the bed. “I haven’t opened it yet, though, I wanted to wait ‘til you got here.”

The way Keith smiles makes Takashi think that it was worth waiting. Things are just more fun when Keith is around.

But then Keith looks down at the two games, and frowns. “Um…”

Takashi stops smiling too, worried. “Is something the matter? You don’t like them?”

“No, just…are you sure it’s okay? It’s a lot of presents for Christmas and I don’t have anything for you.”

“You got me a card.” Which Takashi hasn’t opened yet, but he’s going to. Keith told him the other day that they were best friends and that he’d written that in the card, and there’s something about knowing that he’s Keith’s best friend that makes him really happy.

“A card’s not a present, though.”

“But these aren’t from me. These are from my dad. It’s okay if you don’t get him a present, I only got him a card too.”

Keith looks up from the games to Takashi, biting his lip nervously. “Can you help me make a card for him later then?”

“Yeah! I’ll help you with anything.” Takashi smiles, and nudges one of the games towards Keith, eager to get started. “But we can do that after we play, right?”

Keith finally smiles again, and Takashi is relieved. Seeing Keith worried makes him worried too. “Yeah.”

They pass the afternoon exploring a new world, Takashi’s dad coming in occasionally to give them snacks or drinks. A few hours later, they’ve managed to work through most of their games together, and then Takashi’s game vibrates, and something pops up on the screen.

 

_SPECIAL EVENT_

 

“Keith!” Takashi yells, right as Keith starts yelling his name too.

“I know! What do you think it is?”

“I don’t know.” Takashi clicks through the dialogue when a woman pops up on screen with a fancy hat and a bunch of flowers in her hand.

“Hello there, trainer,” Shiro reads out loud. “With the festive season almost upon us, you can receive a special gift from the city. Please enter.”

“Wow,” Keith breathes. Takashi glances over at his screen, and Keith’s gone into a huge building, his Pokémon following behind him.

Takashi hurries up, not wanting to miss out, and there’s an entire room full of items.

“Please choose one!” Takashi smiles, walking right up to one, one eye on Keith’s while he clicks through the dialogue.

“Kashi! Look what I got!” Keith’s bouncing on his bed with excitement, and Takashi abandons his own game to look over at him.

“I got a Growlithe,” Keith says, eyes wide and smile growing. “It’s so cool, look, Takashi—”

He shows Takashi his screen, and there’s a Growlithe lunging forward, showing all it’s fierce teeth. “It is cool. And cute!”

“What’d you get?” Keith moves closer, looking over Takashi’s shoulder, and Takashi angles the screen so Keith can see too. “I don’t know, it’s still loading.” But then the shadow that was floating on his screen turns into a bright, white, light and something that looks like a…

Takashi isn’t sure what that is. Or what it’s meant to be. “I don’t know this one.”

But Keith is bouncing up and down, pointing. “Oh, oh, it’s a—sand! It does sand things and it curls up in a ball and when it evolves it had a lot of spikes and—”

 _Congratulations, you hatched a Sandshrew!_ scrolls across the screen.

“It’s a Sandshrew!” Takashi says with a smile. He hasn’t heard of it before, but Keith seems to really like it and Keith is usually right about these things.

Keith nods excitedly. “Yeah! It’s really cool, it’s evolved form looks like a mean hedgehog.”

Takashi laughs. “A mean hedgehog? How can hedgehogs look mean?”

“They can,” Keith insists, and he puts aside his game to grab Takashi’s tablet from his desk. He taps a few buttons, and brings up a search with a picture of what does look like an angry hedgehog. “See? It looks like a mean hedgehog!”

Takashi laughs, taking the tablet from Keith. “I guess it does.” He pulls Keith up onto the bed with him. “Looks like you, actually.”

“Hey!” Keith starts frowning, but it’s not the same as when he’s really mad. Takashi can tell those apart, which is the only reason he keeps laughing at Keith.

“It’s true! Your hair’s all spiky, and you’re looking mean now.”

Keith shows all his teeth and clenches his eyes shut. “There, I’m smiling. I’m not mean anymore.”

Takashi laughs, and ruffles Keith’s hair. “No, you look like the nicest person ever. Not scary at all.”

Keith laughs and bumps his head against Takashi’s hand. “I’m the nicest person ever,” he says, looking very proud of himself.

Takashi smiles back, and nods. “You are,” he says, and it’s the truth.

The rest of the afternoon passes quickly, turning into evening soon enough. They eat an amazing dinner; Takashi’s dad makes way too much food, and there’s also ice cream and chocolate mousse just for Keith. They finish off the night with Christmas crackers and Takashi helping Keith to make a card just for his dad.

The front is covered in gold glitter and colourful circles, and inside, Keith has drawn a car and written his message. It’s really nice and Takashi knows his dad will love it, but Keith still pauses when he stands, clutching the card in his hands. Takashi’s dad is sitting on the couch nearby, reading his newspaper, and Takashi smiles at Keith to let him know that it’s okay to give it to him.

Keith smiles back, and then he walks over to Takashi’s dad. “Uncle Hiroshi?”

Takashi’s dad looks up from his newspaper. “Yes, Keith?”

Keith holds his card out in both hands. “Merry Christmas. Thank you for the present.”

His dad puts down the paper, and takes the card. “Wow, this looks absolutely lovely. Did you make this?”

Keith nods, and sits on the couch next to him. “Yeah, and Takashi helped.”

“Thank you, Keith.” His dad hugs Keith gently, reading the card carefully and smiling. “This is very nice. Thank you.” He looks over at Takashi, looking very happy. “I think it’s time for bed for the two of you. I’ll clean up here seeing as you’ve both been so well-behaved today. Go brush your teeth.”

Takashi groans, but he gets up. “Okay, Dad. C’mon, Keith, let’s go.”

Keith jumps off the couch after hugging Takashi’s dad for another moment, following Takashi. “Thanks for cleaning up, Uncle Hiroshi.”

“You’re very welcome. Make sure to brush your teeth carefully.”

“Yeah, we will. Thanks Dad!”

With that reminder, they make sure that they clean their teeth for long enough, using the little two-minute timer that Takashi keeps in his bathroom. Once they finish, they go back to Takashi’s room, and Takashi’s showing Keith his books about rainforests when his dad comes in again. “Have the two of you brushed your teeth?”

Takashi nods, and Keith does the same, hair flopping back and forth. “Yes, Dad. We can’t stay up any longer?”

Sometimes asking works and they get to play for a bit longer, but not tonight. “No, I don’t want Keith to be too tired going back home tomorrow. If he’s tired all the time, Barbara might not let him come over anymore. And,” he continues, when Takashi opens his mouth to say Barbara would never do that, “if you go to sleep now, you can get up earlier and watch TV tomorrow. Okay?”

“Okay,” Takashi agrees after thinking for a moment. “Keith?”

Keith nods, hugging Takashi’s blanket. “I like TV.”

Takashi’s dad smiles widely. “That’s that, then. Keith, I forgot to ask before, did you want to share Takashi’s room tonight or do you want the spare room?”

Takashi looks over at Keith. He knows what he wants, but his dad always tells him that he should slow down sometimes and let Keith choose, instead of talking over him. It’s better for Keith because it means that Keith gets to do things he really wants. Takashi tries really hard to let Keith have a say, because Keith should be able to choose things that make him happy.

Tonight though, Takashi is lucky, because what Keith wants is exactly what he wants. “Can I sleep with Kashi tonight, Uncle?”

“Of course. Do you boys need extra blankets?”

“We’ll be okay, thanks Dad!” Takashi grins, hugging Keith. Sharing a room is the best part of sleepovers, because it means that they stay warm and Takashi can spend the most amount of time with Keith.

With another smile, his dad leaves, and Takashi gets up to get an extra pillow from his cupboard. “Are you tired?”

Keith nods, and he yawns, still sitting on Takashi’s bed and blinking sleepily. “Yeah, a bit. I sleep better when there’s someone in my room, though. So thanks for letting me share.”

Takashi smiles, bringing the pillow over and putting it next to his own. “Of course I’m gonna share, you’re my best friend. I like having you over, and this way I get to spend more time with you.”

Keith smiles, burrowing himself under the blankets and peeking up at Takashi. “I like spending time with you too. You’re fun.”

“You’re fun too!” Takashi climbs into bed next to Keith and turns off his light, and then the only thing he can see is the shadowy shape of Keith’s head next to him. “You comfortable?”

Keith squirms a little, settling in and pushing himself up against Takashi. “Yeah, I’m fine. I like how big your bed is.”

Takashi rests his head against Keith’s shoulder too, enjoying the closeness. “Yeah, Dad says I’m growing, so he had to get me a big bed so I can grow. He says that about a lot of my clothes too, actually, but sometimes I don’t grow into them before they start getting holes in them...”

Keith laughs, quiet and a little tired. “Yeah, that’s happened to me a couple of times. It’s pretty funny. Doesn’t make sense.”

“Mhm.” Keith starts rubbing at Takashi’s hair, and Takashi smiles into the dark. “What’re you doing?”

“Your hair feels nice. It’s all spiky.”

“Mmm. I need to get a haircut. It’s getting really long at the front, but Dad said all the hairdressers are closed for Christmas so I’m gonna have to wait.”

“It’s okay. I think it looks okay.”

“Really? Thanks.” Takashi has to whisper, knowing that they should be getting to sleep soon. But if they go to sleep, it means he misses out on actually knowing that Keith is here. He sighs. “I wish you could stay forever. I want to have a sleepover every night.”

Keith shuffles next to him, patting his hair again. “Me too. I like sleeping over with you. Barbara has Casey who sleeps over every night. But I think it’s only when you grow up with your own house and everything.”

Takashi frowns. “We could do that.”

“Get a house?”

“Yeah. When we’re older. And then we can have sleepovers all the time.”

Keith is silent for a moment, before his sleepy reply comes. “That would be nice.” Takashi can hear him yawn, and it makes Takashi yawn too. “I’m sleepy, Kashi.”

“Mmm. Me too. We should sleep.”

“Uhuh.” Keith sniffs, and tugs at the blanket so that it’s higher up, keeping them from the cold. “Gonna sleep. Night Kashi.”

Takashi turns around, and bumps his forehead against Keith’s. Keith makes a little grumpy noise, but his eyes are already drooping and he’s not actually mad at Takashi. “Night, Keith.” Takashi closes his eyes, wishing that they could stay like this forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for such wonderful comments on the last chapter!! I'm glad so many of you liked it. Fair warning, this is the point where the hurt/comfort tag kicks in, so...it gets less fluffy from here on in, sorry ^^; But I hope you enjoy nonetheless, and I promise that everything will be okay! They will be happy!
> 
> Please enjoy, and as always I would love to know what you think.

Takashi Shirogane is a lucky guy.

Not many people get to have their best friend by their side from before they can even remember. All those years at the same primary school, then two years apart when Shiro graduated and went to high school. The difference in their year levels didn’t really matter at that point, though, seeing as Keith moved schools anyway, having new foster parents. But when they were unable to keep him—one of his carers falling ill—he was enrolled in Shiro’s high school, and thank god they’ve managed to stick together since.

So Shiro is lucky. Sure, everyone always went on about how Keith had trouble making friends, but that was never Keith’s fault. That was the stubborn refusal of children to understand anything that was different to the norm. Shiro for his part, learned fast that Keith didn’t have anywhere to invite him over to play, that being friends meant going to the park after school if Shiro’s dad had time.

And he had been okay with that, because Keith was—is—just Keith. Nothing more and nothing less than Shiro’s beautiful best friend, and whatever time spent together is always precious regardless of where or when or what, as far as Shiro is concerned. It’s the who that matters to him, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Which is why he hates this, and even more than that, is confused by it. This being the fact that Keith keeps getting shunted from each home he passes through, as though he has a use by date, or exchange policy. Shiro hates that it falls to him—and only him—to make Keith feel wanted and valued, as Keith _should_ be. It’s not that Shiro doesn’t want to—he’s more than glad to do it, more than overjoyed at having Keith’s trust and affection—but he wishes the world weren’t so cruel as to only give Shiro’s small family to care for him.

Shiro’s in his final year of high school when Keith has to move, _again_. Luckily, the school has a boarding program, and instead of being shunted off to another family who won’t keep him, Keith’s at least got some stability for the next three years. God knows he needs it. Shiro gets angry even just thinking about how many families Keith has gone through: one that moved away and hadn’t had room for a child (that they _agreed_ to foster, mind you), another whose mother had gotten sick and just couldn’t afford it

And the worst? The last ones, who had just…changed their minds. As though Keith were something bought from the store instead of an actual, you know, _person_ , a kid who deserved a family and a home more than anyone else.

Shiro wishes Keith could come live with him and his dad, but they can’t afford it either. He just hates for Keith to hurt like this, heavy grief in the air as Shiro helps him shift the last of his belongings into his new room. Keith deposits his backpack next to the bed, his movements subdued, and he sits down on the bed. He’s almost meek, and Shiro _hates_ it.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, because Keith looks vulnerable, hunched in on himself as though he’s trying to make himself smaller.

“Fine.” Keith’s voice is rough, and Shiro knows he’s hiding. He’s hiding the hurt from Shiro, because admitting it aloud means admiting to himself that it hurts.

And seeing him like this? It’s hard on Shiro too.

“Wanna go out?” Shiro says helplessly, because he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to do to make this _right_ , or to make Keith hurt any less.

But Keith shakes his head, and clenches a fist. After so many years together, Shiro knows that the gesture means that Keith’s barely holding on. He’s usually incredibly in control of his emotions—probably, Shiro thinks with his heart aching, because any sign of emotion was another reason for him to be labelled difficult and sent away again. Keith’s physical tension is the first indication of what’s about to come, and Shiro gets up to quietly close the door to Keith’s new room.

At that sound, perhaps because of its finality, Keith starts breaking.

“I hate it, Takashi,” he whispers, and he sounds so sad that Shiro wants to take him away from all of this. Give him a home and a place to be loved, because he deserves it.

“I know,” Shiro says, and sits next to him, slinging an arm around Keith’s shoulders. He pulls Keith close so that he can know that, at least here, he is loved. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why doesn’t anyone _want_ me?”

“I want you,” Shiro says immediately, because it’s true. His life wouldn’t be whole without Keith in it. Not in the slightest.

But of course the wounds aren’t quite so easy to heal, and even Shiro’s love can’t undo all the damage that’s been wrought. He can’t halt all the dust and rubble and broken debris that spill out of Keith’s mouth. “I just—I _tried_. I tried. I was polite and I did all the housework they needed me to, I was quiet so I didn’t disturb them when they were working. I hardly asked for _anything_ , not any—any pocket money, or snacks, or games or whatever, and I was studying hard so I c-could keep my grades up but—but I can’t seem to g-get anyone to _want_ me.” He’s shaking apart in Shiro’s arms, burying his face in his hands and tearing at his hair as the tears come in a storm, wicked and wild and horrible. All Shiro can do is hold him close and as steady as he can to help Keith weather it.

“I know, I see you trying,” he whispers, because Keith needs to know that his fire and fight are valuable, precious things. “It’s enough, Keith. I promise, it’s enough.”

“But it’s _n-not_. And it’s not f-fair.”

“It isn’t.” And it makes Shiro boil with anger, at how the world has treated his best friend. “It really isn’t, and I’m so sorry.”

“Why am I like this, Takashi?” Keith’s breath hitches, and Shiro holds him closer. “Why don’t—why c-can’t I get anyone to like me?”

“It’s not you, Keith,” Shiro says gently. “It’s not you, okay? I promise. You’re smart, and kind, and patient, and hard-working. It’s not you.” He hates them. Shiro very rarely hates anyone, and is usually willing to give people a chance. But he can say that he hates the last couple that Keith had lived with. Hates them for abandoning his friend like this with no rhyme, no reason. Nothing to blame except for himself.

What did they _think_ would happen, taking in a fifteen-year-old for two months, and then telling him that he wasn’t welcome anymore? Or more likely they didn’t think at all, and Shiro doesn’t know what makes him angrier: that they thought about and dismissed Keith’s feelings, or that Keith was never a consideration for them in the first place.

Shiro shuffles back on the bed, leaving a space between his legs as he tugs at Keith’s wrist. “Come here, Spitfire.” Keith lets out a horrible choked breath, but follows willingly, letting Shiro guide him so that he’s nestled between Shiro’s legs, his back pressed against Shiro’s chest. Shiro drags the blanket off the bed so that he can settle it around his shoulders, and around Keith as well. He just wants to wrap Keith up in love and safety and warmth, but this is the best that he can do.

Keith’s still crying, hugging his knees in a way that tells Shiro that he’s trying to keep it all in. So Shiro carefully wraps his hands around Keith’s own, and squeezes gently. “I’ve got you,” he whispers. “I’m here, it’s okay. Just let it out.”

Keith’s wail breaks Shiro’s heart.

“That’s it, just let it out,” he keeps saying, holding Keith close as he sobs and cries and yells, shaking as his breath dissolves into hiccups and choked-off cries. “Try to breathe for me, Keith. Slowly, slowly.” Shiro rests his chin on Keith’s shoulder, presses his cheek to Keith’s, which is wet with tears. Keith is shaking with the effort to breathe, body jerking from violent hiccupping, and all Shiro can do is hold him uselessly. “I’m here. I’m not going to leave, just take your time.”

“I can’t do th-this anymore, Kashi,” Keith sobs. “I j-just—I _can’t_. I c-can’t take anymore, I just feel like I’m b-breaking apart every—every time this happens.”

“I know, I know it’s horrible,” Shiro says softly. “You’ve so strong, and you don’t deserve any of this.”

“But I could’ve d-done more. There was—I could’ve worked to help out with money, I could’ve—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Shiro interrupts, gentle but firm. “We’re kids, Keith. God knows my dad gets on my back for taking on _too_ much.” He holds Keith close, and tucks the blanket tighter around them. Keith’s still sniffling in Shiro’s arms. “I promise, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he whispers. If there is one thing Shiro needs him to know, it is that. That none of this was ever his fault, and that it was just all part of unfortunate circumstance and the cruel turning of the world which constantly tries to grind Keith’s fire and passion to dust.

Keith only cries more.

Slowly, slowly, among Shiro’s quiet words and the weight of his arms solid around Keith, Keith’s tears subside. It slows to loud sniffing and intermittent hiccupping, before there’s another burst of tears that Shiro does his best to quieten. He doesn’t know how many times he tells Keith to go slow, to breathe, and that Shiro is here with him. “I’ve got you,” he says again. He’ll keep saying it as long as Keith needs to hear it.

When Keith’s tears finally seem to stop, more or less, Shiro shifts. Carefully, he ushers Keith away from him to sit on the bed with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. “Just give me a moment. I’ll get you a drink, okay?” he asks, ruffling Keith’s hair gently.

Keith nods mutely, wrapping his blanket tighter around his skinny frame.

Shiro goes to the small bathroom that adjoins the room and fills up a cup of water. He grabs one of the face towels and wets that as well, and brings both back out to Keith.

“Here.” He passes the cup to Keith, who snakes a hand out from between the blanket, still hiccupping lightly. Keith drinks in small sips, eyes—distant and tired—staring at some part of his off-white sheets. His eyes are red and bloodshot, and his hair is a mess from him having yanked at it so much. He’s so _small_ , especially the way he’s sitting with his shoulders hunched, huddled inside the blanket.

When Keith puts the cup to one side, Shiro sits on the bed once more, fingers tipping Keith’s chin up gently. He dabs at Keith’s eyes with the towel, hoping that the damp chill will make him feel somewhat better. Keith blinks at him, but then his eyes focus once more, and a little bit of life comes back to him.

“Thanks, Takashi,” he says, voice hoarse.

“Always, Keith.” Shiro can’t keep the affection from his voice, nor does he want to. Keith deserves love. That much is clear. Whatever Shiro can give him, he will.

He swipes the towel over Keith’s nose, wiping away more tears and cleaning his face.

“‘M sorry you have to deal with me,” Keith mumbles, and Shiro shakes his head immediately.

“I like being around you.”

Keith’s lip wobbles threateningly again, but he holds firm. “At least someone does. But,” he continues, “I do appreciate it. Seriously, Takashi.”

Shiro smiles, wiping the towel one last time across Keith’s brow. “I really do like being around you. Now, let me go clean this up.”

Keith’s got one hand closed around his wrist as Shiro stands. “Stay with me.”

His tone is desperate, weak, and it breaks Shiro’s heart even more. “I’ll be right back,” he promises. “I told Dad I’d get home by myself, so I’ll be here as long as you need me.”

Keith nods, and relaxes a little. By the time Shiro returns from depositing the cup and towel in the bathroom, Keith’s rearranged himself and the blankets so that he’s lying down, blanket tucked around him.

Shiro doesn’t need asking twice—or even once—to know what Keith wants. He lifts the blanket, sliding in next to him. “I’m not leaving,” he says softly. “I’m right here.”

Keith whimpers softly again, and tucks himself up against Shiro’s side.

Shiro wraps an arm around him and pulls the blanket up. Keith’s breath is still a little clogged, but at least the crying has stopped for now. Shiro wishes that the hurt were just as easy to move past.

He keeps his promise, and stays as long as Keith needs him. And if that means sharing a quiet dinner of instant noodles before drifting off to sleep, curled up around each other in Keith’s bed, Shiro can’t really complain.

* * *

 

Seven months later sees Shiro graduating.

He follows his classmates up the stage, receives the certificate, then comes back down. His dad and Keith are three rows behind where he’s sitting, and he smiles and waves as he comes down the stairs. Just like that, he’s done with high school, and onto the vague ‘one day’ that is so often talked about.

After all the formalities, Shiro has to fight his way through the crowds to find his family. When his phone vibrates, he fumbles with his certificate for a moment, before he picks up the call.

“ _Hey, where are you guys?_ ”

“ _Out the back—there’s a fountain_ ,” his dad replies. “ _There are less people here, and it’s closer to the car._ ”

“ _All right, I’m coming_.”

With that, he shuffles his way through the crowd again, taking a little longer than he should because he keeps running into friends and teachers offering congratulations or asking for one last photo. His uniform is starting to get stifling, the swarms of people making the hall far too warm. He manages to shrug off his blazer once he gets outside, loosening his tie so he can breathe.

He circles around to the back of the hall, where there’s a huge white fountain spewing water into the summer air. The day’s more than a little warm, but there’s a nice breeze, and it carries stray flecks of water to prickle along Shiro’s cheek.

Next to the fountain are the two most important people in Shiro’s life.

His dad’s in a suit, fiddling with his phone as he swipes across the screen to show something to Keith. Keith, for his part, looks adorable in a suit and tie as well, and he’s smiling at whatever it is that Shiro’s dad is showing him. He’s got a bunch of flowers cradled in his arms, and Shiro has a sneaking suspicion who they’re for.

They look up when the long stretch of his shadow approaches, and both of them are grinning.

“Look at who’s all grown up now,” his dad says, but his smile is fond and proud. When he reaches them, Shiro’s immediately enveloped in his father’s embrace, and he smiles as he pats his dad on the back. “ _I’m very proud, Takashi. You did well_.”

As always, Shiro’s never sure how to take praise from his dad. “ _Thank you_ ,” he says, drawing back. “You know I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“And Keith,” his dad says with a grin, and Shiro turns to his best friend.

“And Keith,” he agrees, pulling at Keith’s bangs.

Keith scrunches up his nose, but then he’s shoving the bouquet of into Shiro’s arms. “Keep doing that, and I’m never getting you another present again.”

Even though the reason why Keith was clutching a bunch of flowers was pretty obvious, Shiro’s heart still warms at the gesture.

“They’re gorgeous,” he says, looking down at his gift. Lilies, in scarlet and white, blooming bright and bold and beautiful. He shifts the flowers so that they sit in the crook of his arm, and pulls Keith into a one-armed hug. “Thank you so much for coming.”

Keith’s arms wrap around him and squeeze, and Shiro is so happy that he has Keith here with him. “Like I had anywhere else to be,” Keith says, his words muffled by Shiro’s shoulder.

“Still. It means a lot.” Shiro draws back, though he keeps Keith tucked against his side. “Glad you’re here, Spitfire.”

Keith scowls.

There’s a soft chuckle, and Shiro looks up to see his dad taking photos.

“Don’t mind me,” he says with a grin, still pointing his phone at the two of them and tapping away. “Just capturing a moment of beautiful friendship.”

Keith speaks before Shiro can sigh at his dad’s antics. “Can we get a proper one? For the memories.”

Shiro looks down at Keith, amused. “Like I could forget you.”

Keith shrugs as they get into position. “Still. I’d like one,” he says, oddly serious.

Before Shiro can ask him what’s up, his dad is talking. “Okay, hold still.” Shiro’s dad moves back so that he can capture everything. Keith’s arm is still around his waist, and Shiro’s rests across Keith’s shoulders, pulling him close. “Okay, one, two, smile!”

He takes another one or two, before trotting back to the two of them.

“How’s this look?” he asks, passing them his phone.

Keith takes it from him, and Shiro peers over his shoulder so that he can see too.

The two of them are smiling, and Keith looks…radiant. Soft, and happy, with the sunlight bright enough to light up his hair so that it’s a deep brown rather than the black it first appears to be. They’re pressed close together, and Shiro knows that he’ll remember the feeling of Keith’s warmth and strength forever. It has helped him through studying late nights and the occasional existential crisis, and Shiro doesn’t think that he could live without it.

He knows that he wouldn’t be able to live without Keith.

He smiles, squeezing Keith’s shoulders again as he sends the photo to himself.

“It looks perfect.”

* * *

 

It’s been six months since Keith last talked to Shiro.

Keith’s in his second-to-last year, and Shiro’s away at the Garrison. University apparently means assignments and exams and other important things that leave Shiro with no time for his old home, or for Keith.

The initial slide was slow. One missed phone call because Shiro had been too tired. A skipped day in their daily texting because Shiro had just been too busy. One missed call, one extra day; they turned to two, then five, then weeks and months of silence.

Keith doesn’t know how to handle it. He misses him.

 _I want you_.

And Keith doesn’t doubt that Shiro meant it—back then.

But people change. Minds change, and time passes. Whatever the hell Keith wishes were true, Shiro doesn’t want—or need—him anymore. His dreams of castles and living together were just that: dreams. Dreams built from the fragile fabric of sand and paper, and the stupid, naïve imagination of a child.

Keith’s not a child. Hasn’t been for a long time.

Of course, it’s all worse without Shiro here. The loneliness escalates because Keith never really made many friends in the first place, and even when he does meet people, he just can’t tell them everything. Can’t tell them why he boards at school without going home for the holidays, can’t tell them about his family because he doesn’t have one ( _not now that Shiro’s gone_ ), can’t tell them a thing about himself that’s important. It’s too difficult to bridge that gap from everyday acquaintance to trusted confidant, so Keith doesn’t pursue what he knows is a hopeless task.

That loneliness is only made worse by the fact that he can’t tell Shiro. His friend is doing important things and realising his dreams, and he doesn’t have time for Keith anymore. It makes sense, because what sane university student still wants to be hanging out with their high school friend?

But having a reason doesn’t make the hurt any less. Shiro always promised that he would stay, no matter what. No matter how far apart they got, Shiro said that he would always be there.

Keith should’ve known. An entire friendship built on the fact that they got to see each other every day? It had to crumble as soon as that happy circumstance ended.

He slides open his phone, staring at the picture of him and Shiro on Shiro’s graduation day. They were happy.

He wants to call Shiro.

He doesn’t.

There’s no need to share this with him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick reminder that chunks of italicised dialogue are Shiro + his dad talking in Japanese (in case you missed that at the end of my very long note at the start).

Shiro goes home in the summer of his first year at the Garrison. He hasn’t been back for almost a whole year; he managed to snatch a few days over his mid-semester break, but then his intended trip during the longer, winter holiday had to be postponed because he’d gotten horribly sick. His dad understood of course, and sent him a whole ton of medicine and a heat pack. The gesture almost brought tears to Shiro’s eyes.

But now he’s back at the table where he ate almost all his meals for eighteen years, his dad settling into his chair with a bowl of spaghetti bolognaise to match Shiro’s own. The dining room is filled with nothing but the clinking of cutlery, and Shiro’s occasional groans as he finally eats something that’s actually _fresh_.

“ _It’s_ so _good to be back_ ,” Shiro mumbles, mouth full and soul content. “ _So good, Dad_.”

His dad chuckles, and the sound warms Shiro’s heart. “ _I’m glad. You should visit more often_.”

A sliver of guilt worms its way up from his stomach, and it’s hard to ignore. They’ve only ever really had each other, since his mum died. They’ve only ever really had each other, and now Shiro’s hours and hours away, leaving his dad to the quiet and solitude. His father would never complain, of course, but Shiro promises to himself that he’ll make more of an effort. “ _I’ll try. It’s just been really busy. I’m sorry_.”

“ _I know, I know_.” His dad sets his cutlery down, leaning back. “ _I’m not saying that to make you feel guilty. I’m just worried about you_.”

Shiro smiles, fond. “ _I’m fine, Dad. Nothing that I’m not used to. I’m sure it’ll get better once I’m past this first year_.”

“ _All right, but please look after yourself_.”

“ _I’ll try. And anyway, I’ve got you looking after me_.”

His dad smiles, the movement making his eyes crinkle. “ _Of course; I_ am _your father. Speaking of people who bully you into looking after yourself, when’s Keith going to be coming over?_ ”

Something twists uncomfortably in Shiro’s gut. “ _Keith_?”

His dad looks confused. “ _Yes_ ,” he says slowly. “ _Keith. Keith who you grew up with? He’s been quiet lately, I thought it must be final exams so I didn’t want to bother him. I invited him over when I heard you were coming back, but he said he was busy. I thought you might have more luck_.”

Shiro swallows. “ _I…um, haven’t really—we haven’t really been talking_.”

His dad frowns. “ _Did something happen?_ ”

“ _No? We just…don’t talk anymore_.”

“ _…oh_.”

From the silence that follows, Shiro can tell that his dad is disappointed. Instead of saying anything to Shiro, he just stares at the wall, silent. Somehow, that kind of passive-aggressive weirdness is worse.

“ _What?_ ” Shiro asks, slightly irritated. His relationships are his own business, and he doesn’t like that look of disapproval. He also doesn’t like the guilt that comes along with it.

“ _You used to be really close_ ,” his dad says, stating the obvious. “ _He’s a good boy. Very kind_.”

“ _I was just…really busy_ ,” Shiro says defensively.

“ _I know, Takashi, I know_.” His dad sighs. “ _I’m not saying that you did anything wrong. Just…you’re back here now, maybe it’s time for a visit. See if he wants to catch up?_ ”

Shiro has thought about the same thing. But the thing is, Shiro knows Keith, and he knows how Keith works even if they haven’t talked in a while. After almost a year of silence? That’s abandonment in Keith’s eyes—in anyone’s eyes, Shiro admits to himself with horrible guilt—and he’s not sure Keith will be willing to let him back into his life.

Cowardice is what it boils down to. Better to let it die like this, strangled and silent, than to admit his wrongdoing—or lack of doing _anything_ —and face Keith in all his fierce honesty. Shiro doesn’t want to be confronted with the fact that he’s done something wrong. Broken a promise to someone who he doesn’t doubt would’ve been by his side forever, if only he’d bothered to do the same.

“ _I…don’t know if he’ll want to anymore_ ,” he says quietly, ashamed. “ _I didn’t talk to him for a long time_.”

“ _You an only try, Takashi_ ,” his dad says calmly. He doesn’t offer any excuses; no use dwelling on the past, when you can act to move forward. That determination and resilience is something that he passed on to Keith. “ _This is up to you, and only you. So what are you going to do?_ ”

* * *

With his father’s words echoing in his mind, Shiro finds himself walking down the halls of his old high school two hours later. He rushed to the store to buy chocolates—maybe a bit weird, but he didn’t want to turn up empty-handed—and they’re currently clutched tight in his hand, rattling hollowly with every step. It’s far quieter than what he’s used to; high school exams are ongoing, so students are at home studying instead of at school.

Except Shiro knows that Keith won’t be, because his home—if you could call it that—is at school. He never went anywhere for holidays other than Shiro’s place, and when Shiro left and ignored him without a word…he left Keith without a place to turn.

Shiro sighs. Hadn’t he hated the people who had done that to Keith, once upon a time? He had been so upset every time it happened, so self-righteous and indignant that anyone would hurt Keith like that.

And now here he is, heart full of apologies, and soul full of fear.

Swallowing down the nervousness, he pauses in front of a familiar door. Hoping that they haven’t changed room allocations in the time he’s been gone, he knocks quietly, and he can hear his own hesitation in the way his knuckles skip over the wood.

Someone shuffles around inside the room, and Shiro grips his box of chocolate tighter to stop his hands from shaking. He grew up with Keith; why’s he _nervous_ about this?

( _You know why. He gave you all of his heart and his soul and you left it on the top shelf to gather dust_.)

Light footsteps pad towards the door, and Shiro barely has time to register the sound before the door clicks open.

Keith’s tired.

That’s the first thing that Shiro realises. Keith is tired, and hurting. God, when is the world going to give this boy a break? He’s got shadows under his eyes and his hair is looped up on top of his head in a messy bun, the way Shiro knows Keith styles it when he goes for too long without washing it.

He smiles, and tries to beam at his friend ( _you don’t have the privilege of calling him that anymore_ ) but the effort falls short. He can almost feel the weight on the corners of his mouth. “Hey! I was just—I’m just visiting for the break, so thought I’d swing by. How’re you going?”

Keith’s lips are slightly parted, and his eyes are wide as he stares at Shiro. “Shiro? What—what are you doing here?”

Shiro forces his smile to stay. “Like I said, I’m back for a visit,” he says firmly. “Just thought I’d check in to see how you’re going.”

Shiro can almost pin the exact moment that Keith decides to retreat: his expression loses the open vulnerability, his mouth closes, and he goes back to a scowl. “I’m doing fine,” he says stiffly. “Thanks for checking in.”

Shiro swallows, and his smile fades. “Keith, I—can I come in?”

Keith hesitates, but then he shakes his head. “I’m studying at the moment. And anyway, it hasn’t changed that much since you last saw it.”

Shiro’s heart jolts in his chest, but he wills himself to stand his ground. This is how Keith stays safe: avoid, evade, redirect. And the only thing that has ever worked in the face of that is honesty. “That wasn’t why I asked.”

“Look, Shiro, I don’t have time right now.” Keith looks so, so tired, and Shiro regrets.

“Oh. I’ll…come back later, then?”

Keith snorts, and that’s not a sound that has ever been directed at Shiro. Nor has the glare, and the pure fatigue and aloofness that comes with it. The cold distance that Keith has put between them.

No, that _Shiro_ put between them.

“Don’t do me any favours.”

“Keith.” Shiro tries not to be angry at the derision in Keith’s tone. “I’m sorry I didn’t stay in touch.”

Keith glares at him, and Shiro hates it. This isn’t how they are. This isn’t how they should be. “Like I said, don’t do me any favours. You don’t owe me anything, so it’s fine.”

“Can we talk about this please?”

“There’s nothing _to_ talk about, Shiro.”

“Shirogane!”

Shiro looks up, about to yell at whoever’s interrupting their conversation. But then he recognises his old chemistry teacher, and he has to plaster a smile on.

“Hi, Ms Frances. How are you?”

“Very well, thank you. You here for a visit?”

Keith looks like he wants to exit the conversation as fast as possible, so Shiro quickly says, “Yeah, just back to see Keith.”

Now Keith looks like Shiro’s betrayed him. That stings, but Shiro just wants his best friend back.

“Oh, that’s lovely.” Ms Frances beams. “I’m glad you’ve got someone to pop by and look after you during your exams. Although, I suspect it might be more comfortable if you’re not standing around in the corridor.”

Her words are well-intentioned, but the way Keith stiffens tells Shiro two things. First, Keith still guards his space jealously, though Shiro hadn’t expected that to change anyway. Second—and this is what hurts—Keith wants to guard it against _Shiro_.

Shiro doesn’t push the matter, but he does look at Keith hopefully. After a tense two seconds that has Shiro’s nerves grating, Keith steps inside without another word, leaving the door open. Shiro almost sighs in relief before he remembers that he’s still got company.

“Well, it was nice seeing you, Ms Frances.”

Ms Frances is frowning at the open door, but then her face brightens when Shiro speaks. “Yes, of course. I’ll leave you and Keith alone then. Do visit more often!” With a wave, she heads back down the corridor, leaving Shiro with an open door to his right, and his heart pounding a frantic rhythm in his chest.

Keith’s room is silent. Shiro can’t hear a single thing from inside, and the open door is daunting. He doesn’t move, frozen in place by horrible fear. What if Keith rejects him? What if Keith decides to turn him away?

Which Shiro admittedly deserves. After all, didn’t he do the same? He shoved Keith aside, marked him as low priority, and ignored him entirely.

Knowing that, Shiro takes a steadying breath (not that it helps much) and knocks lightly on the door.

“It’s already open,” Keith says.

Shiro flinches. _Don’t waste my time_. Again, likely deserved.

He swallows, and steps inside.

The room _hasn’t_ changed much since Shiro was here last. The bedspread is different to what he remembered, blue checks instead of the yellow flowers that were first here, and the bookshelf looks a little fuller. The extra notes and binders that line its shelves are presumably extra readings that Keith needed for the year Shiro’s been away; otherwise, there are few differences. In the end, this has never really been home for Keith, and it shows. The walls aren’t decorated at all, in stark contrast to how the two of them had peppered Shiro’s ceiling with glow-in-the-dark stars over New Year’s when Shiro was twelve. Little has changed.

Little, except for the fact that Keith refuses to look at him.

Shiro’s at a loss for what to do. Where can he even start with this? How can he even begin to apologise, when there’s so _much_ he’s done wrong? Keith won’t _look_ at him, slumped at his desk and with his eyes glued to the book that lies open there. Keith won’t look at him, where Shiro used to be the very first thing that he sought out in any room.

Where to begin?

 _I’m sorry I left you alone, like so many other people. I know that was crappy, especially because I said I never would_.

“I…brought chocolate,” Shiro manages. “Um…where can I put it?”

Keith stops writing in his notebook, but doesn’t put down the pen. Nor does he turn around to look at Shiro. “Just throw it on the bed. I’ll deal with it later.” He clears his throat. “Thanks.”

Shiro does as he’s told, the sound of the box hitting the blanket unnaturally loud in the tense silence. “How’s school been treating you?”

Keith sighs, and drops his pen. He finally turns to face Shiro, and he looks so damn _tired_ , especially with the disappointment and distress etched clearly into the familiar lines of his face. “You don’t have to stick around. Thanks for the chocolate.”

“I want to stick around,” Shiro says, before he can lose his nerve. He meets Keith’s gaze squarely. “I want to know how you’re doing.”

“You don’t need to,” Keith repeats. “Just go home, okay? You don’t have to babysit anymore. I can handle myself.” His voice is starting to get an edge of impatience, the way it’s always been prone to do when Keith is stressed.

“I’m not looking to babysit you,” Shiro says, deliberately calm against Keith’s increasing irritation. “I just thought I’d visit a friend and see how he was doing.”

“I’m doing fine,” Keith says immediately. “So go home.”

“Keith, you’re tired. Don’t be stubborn, I’m trying to help you with—”

“Stubborn.” Keith stands now. Refusing to take the lower ground, he abandons his chair, his hands clenching at his sides. “How am I being stubborn? I’m doing fine. I’ve been coping for a year without you, so I’m _fine_. Or maybe I _was_ stubborn,” he says quietly. He crosses his arms, shoulders hunching. “Maybe I was, when I kept trying to keep in touch when obviously you weren’t interested in being friends.”

Shiro almost recoils at the words.

“Of—of course I am, Keith,” he says, heart shaking. “Of course I still want to be friends. You’re still—I still care about you.”

Keith’s fingers only tighten around the sleeves of his jacket. “Funny way of showing it. I said I don’t need your help. Go home.”

“Can you let me try? I promise—”

“You promised _once_ already, Shiro,” Keith says, and his voice is ragged. He’s about to break, and Shiro—god, he hates himself for this. “You already promised me before, and you still—” Keith sucks in a breath to steady himself, clenching his eyes shut.

When he speaks next, his tone is calmer, though the hurt hasn’t lessened at all. Honestly, Shiro would rather he yell at him than this horrible, quiet acceptance. “You said you wanted me in your life, Shiro. You told me that, but you…don’t. Look, you’re a busy guy. You’ve got dreams, and goals, and things that you’re working towards.”

Keith opens his eyes, and his mouth twitches in what Shiro supposes is intended as a smile. He sounds so _resigned_ , like he isn’t worth Shiro’s time at all, and Shiro hates himself so much for even letting Keith think that for a second, let alone months. “I—I get it, okay? It’s fine. You don’t have to feel guilty about this, okay? I’m doing fine, and you don’t have to worry about looking after someone else anymore.”

Keith trails off, and he holds Shiro’s gaze for another few moments before he glances down at the carpet instead. His fight and fire are gone, buried beneath fatigue and horrible resignation.

Shiro has to fix it. He has no idea if he has the power to do so anymore, but god, he has to try.

“Are you done?” Shiro asks quietly. Keith has been open and honest with him, even if he got so much wrong. Now it’s Shiro’s turn to set things right.

Keith nods, and slumps on his bed, staring at his knees. “Yeah. I’m done. You can go now.”

But Shiro sits next to him, and looks at his own feet. “I’m sorry.”

“Shiro, it’s—”

“No, please, let me say this.” He looks up at Keith, who’s schooled his face into blankness. “I got distracted. I know that’s not an excuse, but I did, and I’m so, so sorry for it. But this isn’t…a pity thing.”

When Keith stiffens next to him, Shiro knows he’s hit the nail on the head. “This isn’t me coming back ‘cause I feel bad that I left some younger kid alone when he needed guidance and a friend. This is me coming back ‘cause I realise that—that _I_ need a friend, and I miss my best friend more than I realised.” He swallows, fighting the urge to hug Keith. Keith is still looking at him suspiciously, and Shiro won’t cross any more lines. “I miss you. A lot. And I’m sorry I didn’t realise earlier.”

Keith keeps staring at him. The frown’s come back now, but now there’s less anger, and something more…pained. Confused. Sad.

“You missed me,” Keith asks quietly. His eyes search Shiro’s, looking for any hint of dishonesty.

Shiro sighs. “Yeah. I miss you.”

“But you never wanted to talk.” Keith sounds confused, and the rage has slid away to reveal something far more vulnerable. He’s hurt, and Shiro curses himself again for giving Keith yet another example of how not to have loving relationships. “You were busy. I’m just a high school kid, and—you never told me that. You never messaged.” His voice cracks over the words, taking Shiro’s heart with it.

Of course silence for Keith would mean rejection. That’s how he operates: quiet around those who don’t know him well, but Shiro and his dad always joked that Keith was a motor mouth when given half a chance. Straightforward and honest, he was always open about the fact that he missed Shiro, whether it had been over the phone, or a message halfway through Shiro’s morning routine.

Shiro said the same, of course. But after a while, replies slowed, then stopped.

Rejection, Shiro realises again, dully.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and his hands clench against the sheets. “I—I know there aren’t any excuses. I was a terrible friend, but I guess I got overwhelmed. Turns out I get awfully forgetful when I get stressed.”

Keith looks at him, and Shiro’s breath finally releases when Keith seems to relax. “Guess I’m not surprised,” he says slowly. There’s a lightness in his voice that Shiro knows is forced, so they’re not on the same page quite yet. “You used to forget to eat and sleep, so it’s not surprising you’d forget about me.”

“Which makes it worse. I knew what I was like, and I still let it happen.” Shiro sighs. “I guess, after a while, I also felt awkward. Again, not an excuse for being a terrible friend. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” This time, ‘it’s okay’ doesn’t mean it’s all right for Shiro to walk away. Nor is it ‘it’s okay,’ as though there isn’t something disgustingly wrong with Keith’s resignation to being left behind.

This time, it sounds something more like forgiveness.

“I’m still really sorry.”

And, oh, Keith finally, finally smiles. Properly. Not a pained grimace, but the little upward turn of his lips. “Geeze, Shiro, you’ve apologised like ten times now. You’re okay.”

“You’re seriously fine?” Shiro asks, wary. Keith seems to have accepted this too easily.

Or not, Shiro thinks, when Keith’s smile falters and his gaze falls to the floor. “I’m—I guess I still feel a bit weird, but it’ll go away. I do want to be friends, and, I mean…you came back.” Keith looks back up at Shiro. There’s so much terrified hope on his face that Shiro vows to always return, and be worthy of that hope. “Not everyone does that. So…thanks.”

Shiro shakes his head. “God, don’t thank me for being slightly better than a jerk.”

Keith chuckles, and he leans his head tentatively against Shiro’s shoulder. At the contact, Shiro finally feels he can relax. “I missed you,” Keith says quietly.

Shiro slowly places one hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Missed you too, Spitfire.” He pats Keith’s shoulder gently. They take a moment to breathe, comfortable in each other’s presence. Shiro heart finally settles, and the constant guilt he didn’t even realise he was carrying dissipates at long last.

“I really should go study, though,” Keith says, after a long moment of quiet with Shiro’s hand just resting on his shoulder. But he doesn’t move.

Shiro shifts, and just pulls him closer into his one-armed hug. “All right, work hard. But look after yourself, okay?”

Keith snorts. “Yeah, like you can talk.”

“I know how bad it gets, so you should look after yourself.” Shiro looks down at him, and smiles fondly. “And let me know if you need anything. Though we should go out somewhere once you’re done, either way.”

Keith nods, and he’s smiling when he looks at Shiro, pleased. “My last exam’s on Wednesday. Wanna do Thursday?”

Shiro smiles, and holds him close. “Sounds like a date.”

* * *

Later that night, Shiro stumbles across a video of the prettiest cat he’s ever seen. It’s got sleek black fur, long and silky, and it’s batting at its owner’s scarf while the cameraperson laughs. He copies the link, and pastes it into the message box to Keith.

 _Hey_ , he types. _Look. It’s you_.

His finger hovers over the send button, unsure if more grovelling is called for before he can fall back into weird videos and funny memes. His heart aches again at how much he royally screwed up. But Keith…

Keith had said that they could keep trying.

So Shiro will.

He sends it before he can overthink, stretching as he goes to brush his teeth. When he comes back, he finds a new message from Keith.

 _You’re not funny, Takashi_.

The words are sharp, but Keith calls him Takashi. Shiro hopes that means that he gets a second chance.

* * *

“So this is your place, huh?” Keith looks around him, and then places his backpack gingerly on the floor, taking it all in.

Back home, where they grew up, Keith was familiar to Shiro’s room, the scene of play dates and sleepovers and a million existential crises. With how often Keith visited and stayed over, Shiro’s house had almost felt like home. Shiro and Hiroshi accepted Keith so wholeheartedly that he never really had to question his place there—though that didn’t stop him, sometimes—but this is different.

Shiro’s room at the Garrison is something that Keith isn’t quite sure how to navigate, a puzzle that he’s not quite sure he fits. Sure, he’s seen pictures, the angles shrunken down through a phone camera, or Shiro’s tablet when they video call. But it’s different to stand here and realise that this is where Shiro spends his days, that this is the reality far away from Keith that occupies almost all of Shiro’s time now.

It’s nothing spectacular: a bed in the corner, a desk right by the window, and a few shelves lining the wall next to the desk. The shelves are neat, though it’s still clear that this place is Shiro’s, because they’re covered in photos, some Lego, and a couple of rocks. The jagged stones they’d found at the beach, Keith realises, on a summer holiday just before Keith had started high school.

“It’s…nice,” Keith concludes, just so he has something to say.

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “Keith, it’s the size of a shoebox.”

Keith looks around, taking in the pale, pale blue of the walls, and how the door doesn’t quite sit right in the frame. “Probably expected that.” He wanders over to Shiro’s bed, before sitting down. Softer than he thought it would be, which Shiro would probably like.

Shiro sat next to him, his leg warm along Keith’s. “You’d probably end up with something similar, if you accepted the offer.”

“Have to get in first, Takashi,” Keith says absently, looking out the window.

“You’re going to get in.” Shiro’s words are firm, with no room for argument. “At this point, you’d have to completely fail your final exams for them not to accept you. It’s just a matter of whether or not you want to be here.”

Whether or not he wants to be here…

“I’m not sure, Takashi,” he says quietly, and now he lets the uncertainty slip through. The uncertainty that he refused to acknowledge the whole way through the application process, because it would be so ungrateful to turn an offer down on a whim if he _did_ get in. A waste of Shiro’s time and effort and firm belief, but Keith…

Keith has never known belonging, and when he looks around Shiro’s room—neat, small, cosy—he’s not sure what to feel.

Shiro must sense something; he knows Keith far too well not to. He shifts, and the bed sinks with his weight, his warmth constant and reassuring next to Keith. It grounds him a little, as Shiro always does.

If there is any belonging that Keith has known, it’s with Shiro.

“What’s on your mind, Spitfire?” Shiro asks quietly.

Keith has been single-mindedly aiming for this opportunity—a way _out_ , to be something, to reach the stars—since he realised what exactly it was that Shiro did. He hasn’t allowed himself any room to falter or wonder, but now that he’s so close…

“I don’t know if it’ll be for me,” he confesses, quietly. “I just—what if I’m not any good at it? What if I’ve worked so hard for this—not to mention all the work _you’ve_ put in, too—and it turns out that this just wasn’t meant to be a thing?”

“Keith, it’s going to be—”

“Everyone else will have had people supporting them and I just—high school was one thing, but going through uni?” Keith smooths a hand over the bed spread, picking at some stray fluff. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I don’t even know if I’ll _like_ it, maybe I should just do—”

“Keith.” This time, Shiro’s voice is firm, and he clasps Keith’s arm gently. “How about you take a breath?” He sounds amused, but not in a mean way, and Keith stops talking to do as he suggests.

Shiro sighs, and smiles. “You’re gonna be just fine, Keith.”

Keith frowns at his knees, the itchy repetition of ‘what if, what if, what if,’ refusing to leave his mind. “You don’t know that, Takashi. ”

“I do, ” Shiro says simply. “You work hard. You’re clever, you’re curious, and you’re willing to learn. So many people here don’t have that. ”

“I’m not smart,” Keith protests. He really isn’t. He’s far from being the best in his class, though he’s doing pretty well, all things considered. He’s not Shiro, who aces all his subjects and tutors on top of that. He’s just...Keith. Doing what he’s always done, and hoping that for once, it’ll be enough.

“You are,” Shiro says gently. “You are so much, Keith. You’re amazing, okay? And it’s because of that, that I know you’ll be okay, no matter how the Garrison turns out, or if you come here.”

When Shiro looks at him, Keith’s heart turns at how beautifully whole his smile is. “You know what else?” He lifts his hand, and taps a finger gently over Keith’s pounding heart. “You have so much heart, Keith,” Shiro says softly. “So much. I see it in you, even when it’s tough, even when you get dragged down. You still remain as amazing as always.” His eyes crinkle a little when he smiles softly. “So, Spitfire, you’re gonna be just fine.”

Keith blinks at the sincerity in Shiro’s words, still hesitant. He searches Shiro’s face for a sign, anything to show that Shiro doesn’t believe everything that he’s saying with his whole heart. Anything to signal that Shiro’s words sound as ridiculous to him as they do to Keith himself.

But there’s nothing. Nothing but Shiro’s steady gaze of warm brown, the gentle tilt of a fond smile, and Shiro’s hand still resting over Keith’s heart.

“You really think that,” Keith says hoarsely, still disbelieving.

Shiro nods, and his other hand rubs at Keith’s arm, the gesture familiar and comforting. “I really do.”

Keith leans into the touch, and relaxes. “Okay, then. Let’s try this thing then.” The anxious murmurs still beneath Shiro’s hand, and his touch—solid and loving over Keith’s heart—is all Keith needs to know he’ll be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments would be extremely welcome. This chapter can be shared on [Tumblr](http://shiroganedefencesquad.tumblr.com/post/164386352259/share-my-forever-love-chapter-3-a-sheith) :) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/starchydreams/status/899090656097779714). Would very much appreciate it if you did!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A happier chapter!

Keith turns the page of his book, but his eyes flicker to his phone for the fifth time that minute. His finger twitches; Shiro said he would be done soon, but Keith can’t wait much longer. They haven’t seen each other in almost four months, and Keith misses him. So much.

With a sigh, he picks up his phone, giving up on pretending to read.

No new messages, and no change in what Shiro had written last.

 

_I need to meet w Iverson not sure how long he’ll want me for_

_I can just wait outside_

_Keith I dont want you hanging around for what might be hours okay?_

_I’ll come as soon as i can_

_Fine_

_I miss you_

_I miss you too but I’ll be there soon :)_

 

That was two hours ago, and Keith cannot concentrate while he’s waiting. He _tries_ , and he almost has himself convinced that he’s being productive when he sets his phone aside and picks his book up again. He turns another page with a sigh, crossing his legs to get into a more comfortable position.

But then there’s a knock on his door, and he bolts up out of bed, book forgotten. He swings his door open, and grins when he sees his visitor.

“Shiro!”

Keith launches himself immediately at his best friend, his slight arms wrapping around Shiro’s shoulders.

Shiro’s laugh is the best thing in the world, and when he laughs for Keith, the sound is soft and happy against Keith’s skin. It’s the sound of home and joy and freedom, and Keith doesn’t want the moment to end. Except it’s a good thing that it does, because it inevitably leads to the _next_ moment, which has Shiro wrapping his arms around Keith and hugging him back just as enthusiastically.

Out of everything that’s changed and will change over the years, Keith’s sure of this: he’ll never feel safer or more loved anywhere than when he’s with Shiro.

“Hey, Spitfire.” Shiro’s started patting him on the back now, quick little flutters of his hand, and Keith laughs at the gesture. “How’ve you been holding up?”

“Good.” Keith still hasn’t let go, but Shiro’s not moving either. “Kinda boring without you here. I played some games with a couple of the other cadets, but it was a bit...awkward.”

Now, Shiro draws back, and looks concerned. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Was just really tiring, being around that many new people. Jess—from physics?—she invited me, so I knew her, at least. And one or two others, but there were a good ten or twelve of us, and it just got a bit much.”

Shiro’s concerned expression softens into something a little gentler, and he gives Keith a one-armed hug. “I’m glad you’ve got some people to hang out when I’m gone. At least that way you’re not too lonely.”

But Keith wasn’t really lonely with Shiro gone. He likes his quiet, and his peace. Other people are all right in small doses—and Keith has been working on bigger ones, too—but having to shape his quiet and peace around other people is actually really tiring, and he’s still getting used to it. He has wave-in-the-hallway type friends, and even some people—like Jess—that he doesn’t mind hanging out with every now and again. But he doesn’t miss them too much when they’re not with him. Not the way he missed Shiro.

When was Shiro gone, it was quiet in a way that was itchy and uncomfortable rather than gentle or relaxing. The absence was unnatural after being so used to Shiro’s presence, the lack of communication disconcerting. No good morning messages, no late afternoon check ins, no warm presence next to Keith as he studied late into the night.

And maybe there is something to be said about the whole ‘heart grows fonder’ thing, because when Keith looks at Shiro now…he’s never really loved him more.

Being next to Shiro has always felt like that flash of relief that comes with opening to the door to your dorm room after a long day of working. Keith doesn’t know if that’s because half the time he returns to his dorm to find Shiro there already, but that’s beside the point. The point is that it’s only now, with Shiro back with him, that he feels that itchy uneasiness that plagued him over the past four months disappear.

Keith draws back to observe Shiro, looking for signs of fatigue. “Have you eaten yet?”

Shiro shakes his head, finally releasing Keith. “No, not yet. Bit early for dinner, but you said you were free tonight, so…you want to head out?”

Keith grins. Every molecule feels like it’s dancing on starlight now that Shiro’s back. The feeling will wear away into something calmer eventually, but for now he’ll take the giddy happiness of Shiro’s return. “Yeah, let’s go out.” He shrugs into a jacket quickly before stomping into his boots, Shiro waiting patiently with a half smile. “All right, let’s go.”

Shiro waves Keith along. “C’mon, I’ll drive.”

They head outside, walking down the hallways to the garage. Other cadets and staff pass them along the way, but most are content to simply wave before carrying on.

“Iverson keep you for long?” Keith asks.

“Yeah, sorry it took so long. Lots of reports and things to go through, debriefing, things to improve on. And then I got caught up after I was done.”

“Oh, what about?” Keith looks up at him, and Shiro looks weirdly embarrassed.

His eyes stay glued to the floor, but Keith can’t tell if it’s deliberate. “One of the guys from the mission asked me out.”

Keith frowns, something odd stirring in his chest. Shiro deserves the best, and Keith always feels fiercely protective whenever anyone shows interest. Still, he tries to sound appropriately enthusiastic, just in case this is something that Shiro wants. “Oh, what? How? What happened?”

Shiro glances at him, then trains his eyes dead ahead again. “Nothing too exciting.” He shrugs. “Just said that he really valued me as a friend while we on Mars, thought I was funny and sweet. Wanted to go out for a coffee.”

All those things are true—and Shiro is way more than that, besides—but that doesn’t mean the guy actually _knows_ Shiro. Not the way that Keith does. “So what’d you say then?”

“I kinda brushed him off.” Shiro laughs, an embarrassed, stuttering sound. “Made myself clear, but god, it was awkward. It caught me off guard, honestly. I didn’t realise. I lived with him for four months and never noticed.”

Keith shrugs. “People are hard to read. Especially stuff like this, I mean, what’s the difference between someone just wanting to hang out with you as a friend and them wanting to date you, really?”

Shiro looks relieved at Keith’s answer. “Yeah. It’s hard to tell, but I still feel a bit guilty. He took it nicely though, but I didn’t really hang around to chat. I didn’t want to keep you waiting anymore.”

“I wouldn’t have minded.”

Shiro looks slightly distressed at the thought. “I haven’t seen you in months; _I_ mind. I was already getting impatient enough when I was with Iverson, and then he held me back.”

Keith’s heart warms, and he bumps his head playfully against Shiro’s arm. “Well, it’s good to have you back.”

Shiro smiles, slinging his arm around Keith’s shoulders. “It’s good to _be_ back. And just in time, too. Or actually, a little late, but that can’t be helped.”

“Wait, what? In time for what?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Shiro grins, steering Keith outside to the garage. “Just get in the car.” Shiro circles around the back and opens the boot, waving a hand as encouragement.

Keith clambers inside, still confused. “Where are we going?”

There’s a _thud_ when Shiro closes the boot, and then he climbs in too, smiling way too smugly. “Trust me, you’ll like this.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “You know you’re bossy?”

Shiro pokes out his tongue. “You love it. Now, seatbelt, please.”

Keith buckles himself in obediently, getting comfortable. They pull out, hitting the the desert road and falling into a comfortable silence. Keith has a bunch of questions about Mars, but Shiro looks a bit…distracted. Not just concentrating on the road, but excited; wherever they’re going has him preoccupied, so Mars can wait. Content instead to watch the arid landscape go by in silence, Keith relaxes as Shiro drives. The sun is going down, and the red is violent and vibrant as it spreads from low on the horizon.

Instead of heading into the small nearby township as Keith expects, Shiro turns right once they hit the highway junction. Which is weird, because there’s nothing out there except for a Garrison complex, removed from the main academic campus. It houses an observatory, some labs, and the bulk of their hovercraft, but it’s only for authorised staff, so Keith’s not sure where they could be going. Maybe Shiro knows some secret spot?

Yet ten minutes later, they pull up in a fenced car park outside the complex, right next to a sign that very clearly says GALAXY GARRISON: AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY. Shiro kills the engine, and turns to grin at Keith.

“Uh, Shiro, what are we doing here?”

“Get out of the car; it’s a surprise.”

Keith does as instructed, but once he’s out, he crosses his arms and nods pointedly at the sign. “You know it says trespassers will be prosecuted, right?”

“We’re not trespassing.” Shiro sounds almost smug, and Keith smiles in spite of himself.

“Really, now? ‘Cause last I checked, I wasn’t authorised personnel.”

“I am.” Shiro opens the trunks and pulls out a backpack and...a cooler bag?

“We’re eating here?”

Shiro just smiles without answering, and starts walking to the entrance to the building. He waves for Keith to follow, and Keith does, but he rolls his eyes and sighs _very_ loudly. “You’re gonna get me in trouble, Shirogane.”

“I’m letting you in.” Shiro swipes his access card, and the gate swings open. “If it’s on anyone, it’s on me.”

“Yeah, _your_ reputation keeps you safe,” Keith mutters. He follows into a poorly lit hallway, looking around in case anyone spots them.

“Keith, relax. We’re allowed to be here, okay? Trust me.”

Keith pouts, and follows in silence. Their footsteps echo down the hall, the place almost eerily quiet. The hallway lights are dimmed, with the only real brightness being the green glow of the occasional exit sign and the little red dots from security cameras. It’s too dark for Keith to make out the words on the signs they pass, so he really has no idea where they’re going. He fights the ridiculous urge to hold onto Shiro’s arm; after all, he’s not _scared_ …and Shiro’s holding stuff. If he wasn’t, Keith might be a little more tempted.

Shiro, at least, seems comfortable, so Keith probably won’t die here. But he might get lost here; he gets disoriented quickly as he follows Shiro up a flight or two of stairs and down some winding hallways, Keith’s shuffle slightly quicker than the steady padding of Shiro’s feet.

Eventually Shiro stops in front of a set of doors, where he swipes his card again. After an atonal beep, the doors slide open, and Shiro ushers Keith inside.

Thankfully, Shiro turns on a light now, and Keith blinks at the sudden brightness.

“Shiro! A little warning!”

“Right, sorry about that.” But the sound of Shiro’s laugh, he’s not sorry at all.

Keith scowls at him, but then he remembers that all the mystery on the way over was killing him, and he looks around.

They’re in a _huge_ room, the size emphasised by the fact that there’s so little in it. Computers and other machines line the walls, but in the middle there’s only a massive telescope, rising high towards the ceiling that arcs in a giant dome. Which means…

When Keith realises where they are, he slowly starts to grin.

“We’re in the observatory.” He says it softly, still not quite believing it. Hell, he’s been thinking of this since he first saw the Garrison’s shiny brochure proclaiming their state of the art facilities. But no one below their fifth year is allowed in here, which rules Keith out for another two years.

Or well, it had.

“Sure are.” Shiro sounds _very_ pleased with himself, and there’s a soft thump as he presumably places his bags on the floor. Keith wouldn’t know, because he’s still too busy marvelling at the telescope and staring the ceiling, his grin making his cheeks ache. How does Shiro even pull off stuff like this

“I’m not allowed in here.”

“Keith, I already said—”

“I know. But _how_?” Now he turns to Shiro, delighted. “How did you get this one, Shiro? It’s—it’s so _big_ , god. Look at that thing.”

Shiro chuckles. “I know; I _have_ been here before. But it is pretty special.” He places his hands on his hips, head tilted to the side as he smiles at Keith. “I swung favours with about ten different people to get the place to ourselves tonight. And I got us food, so we can hang around.”

“Oh, is that what the bags are for?”

Shiro nods. “Mhm. Wanna check the telescope out?”

Keith hopes that darting over the machine is enough answer for Shiro, and he’s bouncing as he touches it reverently. He squints through the hole, but all he sees is darkness.

“Hold on, it’s better like this.” Shiro turns the lights off again, and part of the roof slowly starts to retract, easing open to give Keith a window to the stars.

Then Shiro’s warmth is pressed against his back, his scent safe and comforting around Keith as he fiddles with some dials. “Here, I’ve unlocked it now. You should be able to see.”

Keith grins and presses his eye against the telescope again, and this time he can see the dark blanket of the night sky, and the constellations and planets that light it up. The noise he makes is almost a squeal, and his voice cracks in excitement.

“Oh my god, Shiro. Shiro, it’s—you can see so much. Shiro, you gotta see this!” Mars is out tonight, and it’s different to see the shadows and deep red with his own eyes, rather than just looking at pictures and daydreaming of flying. There’s something magical in the gentle glow that makes it all seem so _real_ , makes his dreams that much closer.

And it’s all thanks to Shiro. Shiro, who’s standing behind him and laughing softly, laying his hand over Keith’s when Keith tugs his jacket excitedly. “I know, Spitfire. I’ve been here, remember?”

Keith stops tugging, but doesn’t release his grip. “Oh. Yeah.” He grins, watching the sky. He swings the telescope around, looking…

There.

“I see you,” Keith says playfully, grinning.

“Hrm?”

“Found Pisces.”

Behind him, Shiro groans. “I’m not a fish, Keith…”

“Shh, let me have this. We haven’t been star-gazing together in _months_ , which means I haven’t been able to pull that out on you in months.”

Shiro sighs, but he doesn’t protest any further and Keith knows he’s won. He turns his attention back to the night sky, the constellation for Shiro’s star sign twinkling faintly, but still clear.

That’s where he wants to be.

Well, not _there_ exactly—searing heat and stuff—but amongst the stars, even if not on them. To be out there, to be part of something so much bigger than his life here? That would be…something.

“You reckon I’ll ever get there?” he asks quietly, shifting the telescope a little.

“Hm?” Shiro sounds distracted; Keith’s not sure by what, seeing as Keith’s hogging the only interesting thing in this room and Shiro hasn’t moved from where he’s pressed against Keith’s back, steady and warm. “Where?”

Keith nudges him gently with his hip. “Out there, dumbass. On a mission.”

“Yeah, of course.” Shiro sounds confused. “Why would you doubt that?”

 _Because the only good thing to happen to me is you and your dad. All the things I work towards crumble into nothing. I’m not sure what people see in me at the Garrison without you_.

Keith shrugs. “Plenty of good pilots out there.”

Shiro laughs quietly, the sound making Keith’s heart smile. “Keith, you’re the best pilot I know. And yeah, that includes the ones in my year.”

Keith finally tears his eyes away from the telescope to glare behind him. “You don’t mean that.”

But it’s Keith who doesn’t quite believes his _own_ words, because Shiro? Shiro looks so earnest and honest in the dim, blue-grey of the room that it’s impossible not to believe that _he_ has absolute faith in Keith. His mouth is curved in a fond smile, and he tugs gently at Keith’s bangs.

“Of course I can, and of course I do. You work so hard, and you’re curious and willing to learn. That’s important, and people see it, Keith. We’ll be out there together one day. Trust me.”

And Keith…

Keith does.

He smiles, pulling Shiro into a one-armed hug, Shiro’s arm finding its way around Keith’s waist to squeeze gently. “Thanks, Shiro.” It’s stupid, because Keith knows he’s pretty good, and he’ll only get better. But sometimes it’s hard not to look around at his more popular classmates and wonder why on Earth—or any other planet—anyone would choose him. Those doubts don’t go away entirely, but Shiro helps to quieten them, as he always does.

Keith turns his attention back to the telescope, though he keeps his arm around Shiro’s waist, and Shiro’s hand stays perched comfortingly on his hip. Keith finds Mars again, grinning. “Can still see your footprints up there,” he says.

He yelps—a little louder than necessary, maybe—when Shiro pinches him lightly.

“I’m not _that_ big. You’re just being a jerk.”

Keith grins widely, looking up at him. “What do I have to do to make it up to you then?” There’s laughter bubbling in his throat; he’s so _happy_ , with his best friend wrapped up in a hug, just hanging out and doing things they love. He’s missed Shiro _so_ much, and that now he’s here, Keith can’t stop smiling.

Shiro says…nothing. Does nothing, either; his hand just stays where it is, resting gently against Keith’s hip, and _he_ can’t seem to stop smiling either. Keith loves seeing him smile, all open and happy. Shiro stresses so much about stuff—always has—and Shiro might be older, but Keith just wants to protect him. Protect that smile and make sure he never has a reason to hurt.

When Shiro still says nothing, Keith tugs his sleeve. “Hey, you okay?”

Shiro laughs lightly. “I’m fine.” Then he’s hugging Keith back, squeezing him tight, and Keith’s squeaked protests are muffled against Shiro’s chest.

“You don’t have to do anything.” Shiro’s voice is a low rumble that thrums through Keith’s heart, promising home and safety in every breath. “To make it up to me,” he clarifies. “Don’t have to do anything. Just keep being happy.”

A weird request, but Keith smile even if he’s confused. “Okay then, big guy. Hard not to be when you’re around, though.”

Shiro draws back and watches Keith for a moment, before he releases him with one last squeeze. “C’mon, should get some food. Maybe you’ll finally start filling out your uniform properly.”

“Hey!” Keith pouts and follows Shiro, who’s unloading the contents of his bag onto a table. “It’s not my fault puberty hates me.”

“Well, guess you can’t be good at everything,” Shiro says with a grin.

“Hey, you’re really—” Keith stops short of yelling him, because Shiro has a bottle of mango juice in his hand and is offering it to Keith, smile wide and innocent. Keith glares at him. “You’re bribing me with mango juice?”

“Yep.”

Keith rolls his eyes, but takes it. “Only this once, Shirogane. Only once.”

Shiro smiles, says nothing, and continues unpacking his bag.

Half an hour later, they’re slouched back in their seats, Keith picking lazily at the few salad leaves that remain on his plate, and Shiro letting out the occasional burp. Shiro flicked the lights on before they started eating, so they didn’t stab themselves as they navigated their food. He also turned the ceiling dome transparent with the flick of a switch so that they were able to eat under the view of the stars and the planets, and it’s that night sky that Keith stares at as he takes another sip of his juice.

“Man, I’m stuffed.”

Shiro hums in agreement, chair creaking as he shifts around. “You got room for dessert though?”

Keith groans, but tilts his head to cast a lazy glance Shiro’s way. “You know I do. I’ll die, but it’ll be a good death.”

Shiro’s laugh echoes in the room, and then he’s dragging his pack over the table again. “Well, I do like making you happy.”

“What d’you got?”

“A surprise.”

Keith makes a puzzled noise, glancing over at Shiro again. “It’s just dessert.”

But Shiro shakes his head, wrapping one arm protectively around his bag and pointing upwards with his other hand. “Just keep watching the sky. I’ll be quick.”

Keith smiles, but he’s confused. “What, you afraid the sky will go away? And what’s the big deal anyway?”

“Keith, please?”

Keith watches Shiro another moment, but he stops arguing. Shiro so rarely asks him for anything. Even the stuff Keith would gladly give, Shiro hardly ever _asks_ for it. So Keith sighs, and looks skywards again. “All right, surprise away then.”

Keith can hear the smile in Shiro’s voice, and it makes it worth it. “Thanks, Keith.”

Then it’s just the sound of Shiro moving around: zippers zipping, the click of some boxes being opened, cloth shuffling. Shiro gets up, his footsteps quiet in the empty space, and then the lights turn off with a click.

With that glow gone, Keith can see the night sky clearer than ever, and he relaxes, content. It’s comforting and familiar. Keith can’t remember how many times he’s found solace in nothing more than Shiro’s presence. The scratching of pencils across paper or tapping of keyboards when they do their homework together, or all those times relaxed in Shiro’s room back home, a game or book in hand and the familiar sounds of his dad moving around the house. After knowing each other for so long, their silences are comfortable, and easy.

There’s a quiet…hiss? Then, from the corner of his eye. ,Keith notices a red flicker.

Wait.

Dessert, what is probably…fire? And last week was—

Shiro is standing beside him, a resting gently on Keith’s arm. “Surprise,” he says, smiling as he nudges Keith to look back at the table again.

Keith doesn’t need any more encouragement, grinning as he turns around excitedly.

A cake sits in the middle of the table, several candles perched proudly on top, flickering gently. If it’s not obvious enough. Shiro’s also left a box next to it, tied up with a ribbon and card sitting neatly on top. _HAPPY BIRTHDAY_ is written across the silver envelope in a familiar scrawl.

“Shiro…” Keith turns back to his amazing best friend, smiling wildly. “You’re gonna set off a fire alarm or something.”

Shiro just grins in return. “Happy birthday, Spitfire. I’m sorry I missed last week.”

“Hey, no, you had work. And you really didn’t have to.” Keith feels so _lucky_. So incredibly lucky to have Shiro standing here, hands on his hips and watching Keith fondly with his stupid little flop of hair all messy from moving all this stuff around. His heart’s full just knowing that Shiro did this for _him_. He must’ve planned all this ages ago, before leaving for Mars, knowing he’d be away for Keith’s birthday.

Keith is so incredibly lucky.

“Your—your dad already sent me enough cookies to last the month. And pocket money.” And Uncle Hiroshi is just another blessing, but Keith knew that when he first met him. Hiroshi felt safe and kind, with his hands pressed against Keith’s back as he pushed him on the swing, and Keith shouldn’t be that surprised that his gentle kindness shines so brightly in Shiro.

It’s that generous heart that has Shiro simply shrugging, as though this is uncomplicated, straightforward. As though he doesn’t continue to be more than anyone else has ever been for Keith.

Shiro sits back down and drags his chair so he’s sitting next to Keith, their knees just touching. “No harm in having a few celebrations. You deserve nice things, Keith. You deserve to be happy.” Shiro gives him a quick hug, just a quick squeeze around his shoulders. “Now blow out your candles so we can eat.”

Keith sucks in a breath, and when the candles go out, he wishes for this to never end.

“Nice; one shot.” Shiro leans over to pluck the candles out, careful of the hot wax. “Wanna open up your present while I cut it?”

Keith nods, reaching for the black box that Shiro slides over. It’s not wrapped—Shiro is horrendous at wrapping, so every gift from him is always boxed—but there is a bright red ribbon, stark against the black, and Keith slides it off carefully. He pops the lid off, and pushes aside some tissue paper. Whatever’s sitting inside is black, and when Keith picks it up he feels cloth—

Keith laughs as he takes them out. “Shiro! It’s the gloves!”

Shiro smiles, setting a slice of cake on a plate. “It’s the gloves.”

Keith laughs again, tugging them on immediately. “You _were_ paying attention.”

Shiro smiles sheepishly. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to get you for months, but I wanted to surprise you. Didn’t want to seem too interested when you busted down my door to show me your latest obsession, but…I might’ve bought them when you left ten minutes later.”

“Ugh, they look so good!” Keith holds his hand up, flicking at the material and grinning like an idiot. They’re a perfect fit, comfortable and snug around his hands, but fingerless so he can still do things. They’re sturdy and solid, and importantly, they look _badass_.

“Shiro.” Keith looks up at his friend, cheeks aching from smiling. “Thank you so much.” He stands, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s waist and squeezing. Shiro sets down the knife and hugs back. “I really appreciate you. I love them.”

Shiro ruffles his hair again, and Keith lets him get away with it this time because he’s just given him the best present ever. “Like I said, you deserve nice things. You’re welcome.”

Maybe he does deserve it, but Keith has never really had much, well-deserved or otherwise. He’s always had to claw his way up and give his whole being for anything good. Or even just…anything at all, really.

Except Shiro.

“You’re the best, Takashi. I mean it.”

There’s a moment where Keith’s face stays buried against Shiro’s chest, and he cherishes the quiet moment and the feeling of Shiro’s arms around him. Then Shiro says, softly, and a little fragile, “You know I love you, right? I like seeing you happy.”

Keith’s heart is surely too full. What does he have to give, he wonders, to keep this?

“I know,” he says, voice muffled. “I love you back.”

Maybe this time, he doesn’t have to lose anything. Because Shiro is the one who is open and giving and loving, his arms solid and protective around Keith. Maybe Keith can keep this, without penalty or price.

Maybe Keith can stay happy.

* * *

_Dear TAKASHI SHIROGANE_

_Applicant ID: 57284_

_This is to advise—_

 

Keith scrolls further down, impatient.

 

_The Garrison values every one of its dedicated members, and all applications were of an extremely high quality._

 

No.

Keith’s heart sinks. That can’t be good. They only ever trot out those kinds of lines to mean ‘you’re good, but not good enough.’ But he reads on anyway.

 

_We were particularly impressed by your application, and would like to congratulate you on your successful application to the following position:_

_Position: Pilot_

_Mission: Kerberos 2348_

Wait. Wait. That—that’s not a rejection. That’s—

“You got in,” Keith says faintly.

Shiro is sitting on his bed, not having moved since Keith came rushing in after Shiro’s urgent text. He threw his phone at Keith upon Keith’s entrance—unable to look for himself—and he’s had his hands buried in his hair ever since, tugging nervously at his fringe.

At Keith’s words, Shiro stares, and stops tugging.

Blinks.

Stares.

Blinks again.

“What?” he croaks. “I—what? I really…?”

A slow grin spreads across Keith’s face, and his heart is bursting. “Yes!” Shiro _got in_. After months and months of stressing and editing applications and back-to-back interviews, he’s going further than _anyone_ has gone before. He’s going to make history, and that’s—it’s insane to the point of almost unbelievable, but Shiro _got in_.

Keith sits on the bed next to Shiro, bouncing when he drops down on the covers. He shoves the phone in Shiro’s face, grinning as he leans over Shiro’s legs. “You got in!” he says, laughing and slinging his arm around Shiro’s shoulders. “You did it, you’re going to Kerberos!”

Shiro’s still frozen, staring at the phone.

Then slowly, slowly, he starts to smile.

“I—” He’s grinning now, wide-eyed and disbelieving. “I—I did it. I did it.” He laughs, and he wraps his arms around Keith and squeezes tight, his joy bleeding into Keith’s own, his happiness filling Keith’s heart. “Oh my god. Oh my god, I got in. I’m going to Kerberos. Oh my god.”

Keith’s laughing, dropping Shiro’s phone with a muffled thump so he can hug Shiro back. “I’m so proud of you, Shiro,” he says, smiling as he presses his cheek to Shiro’s hair. “They couldn’t have picked anyone better. I knew you could do it.”

“I—thank you.” Shiro leans back, and he looks so happy and hopeful and excited, hardly able to keep still. “Thank you. For putting up with the tantrums and the stressing and—all of it. All the bad stuff. It means so much to me, Keith. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“Hey, I’m your friend.” Keith hugs him again, so incredibly proud. “Course I’ll support you, no matter what you go through. I’ve known you forever; it’ll take a lot more than a bit of stress to drive me away.”

Shiro relaxes into his hold, his hand against Keith’s back as he squeezes him. “Still. Thank you.” Shiro sighs contently, drawing away a little. “I should call Dad. Hold up.”

He leans over to reach for his phone, but he doesn’t let go, squeezing Keith’s shoulders and keeping him tucked close. Keith is grinning as he watches Shiro, happy to be near him.

Shiro’s going to space. Shiro’s going to space, and finding new planets and constellations where no one has ever set foot before, and Keith is happy for him. He is, he really is.

But...there’s just a tiny pang in his heart when he thinks of how long Shiro will be gone. Eighteen months is a long time, and things can change.

But this is what they’ve been working for. This is everything that they’ve ever wanted, for both of them, and Keith can’t be the reason why Shiro stops dreaming and chasing the stars. He wouldn’t want to wipe that smile of Shiro’s face for any reason, wouldn’t want him to stop laughing so freely as he relays the news to his dad.

So Keith will share Shiro’s happiness. Despite everything, he will share in Shiro’s victory, and when Shiro holds him close, he can’t really imagine wanting anyone else by his side. All _he_ can do is work hard enough and hope that one day, they’ll fly together.

With Shiro pressed up so close against him, his warmth familiar and comforting, Keith can believe it.

* * *

_Keith,_

_Happy birthday buddy! A bit late, but I hope you don’t mind ha_

_What can I say? Thank you so much for being my friend. I can’t imagine life without you – it hasn’t always been easy, but you have been with me every step of the way, through the stress and the laughter and everything in between. You’re the best best friend I could’ve ever asked for – you’re patient and supportive (even when you laugh at me) and so much more._

_I hope your birthday was good, and that we’ll only make more memories with the years to come. And that you like the present!_

_All my love, always,_

_Shiro_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your continued support! As always, sharing and commenting would be hugely appreciated ♡
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/starchydreams/status/900158834940846080) | [Tumblr](http://shiroganedefencesquad.tumblr.com/post/164502860874/share-my-forever-love-chapter-4-a-sheith)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for panic attacks and grief, for reasons that are probably fairly obvious. Please heed the new tags and stay safe!!
> 
> A little shorter, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless.

The first time he has a panic attack, the Galra think he’s dying.

Shiro doesn’t know what’s happening either. He’s lining up in the mess hall—for the tenth, hundredth, thousandth time—when overwhelming dread hits him. There’s nothing out of the ordinary, no threat other than some imaginary fear that his pathetic mind summoned from the shadows and cold metal of their prison.

But fear hits him, as sudden as a train speeding along an abandoned track.

_I’m going to die here._

_I’ll die here._

Here, so far from home, with nothing and no one he loves. Nothing and no one to care if he ceases to exist.

He’s never going home. He’s never going to walk through the front door to his house, to his dad smiling his welcome. He won’t ever hear his father’s voice again. His dad is alone—as viciously alone as Shiro—however many horrible light years away, thinking Shiro’s dead. Shiro left him with no one else in the world, like he’s done to _so many others_. Like he left Matt and Dr Holt, taken somewhere to be tortured and broken, just like how Shiro’s been ripped apart slowly, every inch of him burnt and dissected and observed and—

He’s left _Keith_ by himself, waiting for Shiro, thinking Shiro’s dead—

It would be better if he _were_ dead, better for his ragged breath to choke him right _now_. He claws at his leg in desperate hope that the pain will ground him; maybe it’ll take him away, maybe it will stop the pounding of his heart, too loud, _too loud_ in his ears. There are voices, but he doesn’t know what they’re saying or if they’re speaking to him at all. It’s a washed-out blur; his body feels like too much but also unbearably numb, and he watches himself fall apart like he’s a stranger—

(And he is he is _he is_ ; they turned him into something that he’s not.

Maybe he wanted it. Maybe he wished for it.)

Something touches him.

He whirls, powering up his new arm, its black claws glowing with a wicked purple—

He thinks he screams. He’s not sure, but he tries to scream when pain races up his arm, making his vision black out and his breath burn his throat.

“ _Stop him_.” The words are foreign and harsh, but Shiro knows what they mean. Pain. Only ever pain.

“No—” His breath sears his tongue, and someone pins him down.

Fire, burning, screams and jeers and thunderous applause—

Blood on his hands—

“Let m-me go! Don’t touch me, don’t—don’t—”

Shiro screams, harsh and wordless; words mean nothing here. His pleas go ignored as they shove a rod to strike his ribs with bruising force, then his skin is on _fire_. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe, there’s too much, not enough, the floor cold against his skin, something painful digging into his stomach but everything hurts and—

They strap a mask to his face, and he tries to fight free and tear it off because it’s _suffocating_ , but he can’t move his arms. They’re holding him down and he can’t move, and—and—and—

Air is forced into his lungs. It’s cold, harsh, and he can’t _control_ it. He gasps but it does nothing, is nothing but a pathetic effort against it all. Pathetically useless like he usually is, because the machine doesn’t stop pumping air into his lungs. It never stops; _they_ never stop invading his body and his mind.

“ _Keep him alive_.”

No.

Don’t.

He can’t think through the terrifying static, wonders briefly if this is where it ends, if you can die from whatever this is. Ironic that after all that he’s managed to survive, his body would simply shut down and betray him. The last person he could trust here—himself—is abandoning him. His lungs stutter with foreign air, his mind a million thoughts and a thousand lightning bolts of fear, horrible dread filling his lungs and blood. They’re still holding him, still talking and watching and watching and watching and _watching as he dies and hurts and hates and kills for them_ —

He fights.

He cries.

He screams.

 _I can’t breathe_.

Eventually, he stills, staring numbly at the ceiling as enemy faces surrounded him, watching him like he’s something to be fixed. Some machine that needs to be repaired.

And he is, isn’t he? Just a system of blood and flesh and muscle, fit to fight but not to think or feel. He shudders as air continues to be pushed in and dragged from his lungs, but he can’t do anything but stare helplessly at the ceiling, the odd sob stuttering between his teeth.

When they’re satisfied—when he’s been torn to paper thin shreds barely held together with the last of his will—they haul him to his feet. His legs refuse to hold him (his body is no longer _his_ ), so they drag him, still shaking, back to the cell. He stumbles inside, leaning heavily against the wall as the door hisses shut, somehow managing to make it to a corner of the cell before he sinks to the ground.

It’s only once he’s seated, digging his fingers into the soft flesh behind his neck in a desperate attempt to _feel_ something again, that he realises he was crying. There’s wetness on his cheeks, and his eyes are still watering. He doesn’t bother to wipe them. Who cares? The deed is done; any weakness has already been revealed.

In fact, it only takes a few minutes for one of the bulkier fighters to approach, growling low in their throat to see if Shiro can be taken out now. But the familiar purple glow of his arm lights up the room, even if the action sends an unending wave of shuddering _pain pain pain_ lancing through him. He grits his teeth and glares weakly until the alien backs off, and Shiro huddles further in the corner, hugging his knees.

The others stay away. The more vicious ones are still too wary even now, and would rather take their chances in the arena, where the audience’s wildly swinging mood can buy life or death. The weaker ones? They stay far away, because who knows how long they’ve got until they’re just another one of his victims.

Shiro clenches his eyes shut.

He’s alive, and that’s a gift that he’s taken from so many others. He’s alive, and that’s more than can be said of the countless dozens he’s murdered to win the favour of the crowd, buy some flimsy protection in the title of Champion that will let him live one more hour, take one more breath.

He wants to be home.

He’s never going to be.

He squeezes his eyes shut until all he can see is darkness lit by harsh splashes of white. He can almost pretend it’s the night sky filled with stars.

Shiro hasn’t seen the stars in a long time now.

Funny, he realises numbly. Funny, that he was so excited to be here, amongst new planets and new life. Here he is, and he wishes nothing more than to be home. Home in the town where he grew up with his dad and Keith, dreaming big and soaring high. Home with his dad in his oversized jumpers and warm slippers, believing in Shiro every day, urging him on—

He can’t think of them. He can’t, he can’t think of his family because it _hurts_. It aches, deep in his heart and every broken thread of his soul, to think of home so far away. To think of how much he must be hurting them.

He wishes…

He wishes he could say sorry.

He wishes he could apologise for leaving his dad, who’d already lost so much when his mum died. Wishes he could say sorry to Keith—Keith who tried so, so hard to believe in the world, and Shiro just went and made it so much worse.

His body aches, and that ache is familiar.

His heart aches, and that ache is old and worn. For his family, for what his life was. For himself. He hopes they don’t share this heartache, this deep, black loss.

But if he’s learnt anything from his time here, it’s that hope only ever ends in pain.

* * *

 

Keith is strong. Keith is stubborn. And those qualities are never more evident than when Shiro is involved.

So he persists. He tries, so, so, _so_ hard to be patient—

(“ _Remember, Spitfire, patience yields focus.”_ )

—to puzzle, to work it out, think it through, pressure _them_ to put some _damn work_ into finding Shiro because Keith is going insane—

(“ _You’ll get there eventually, Keith. You always do, in the end_.”)

—so it’s only when they refuse him for the fifth time that he snaps.

“He _isn’t_ dead!” Keith screams, the rage raw in his throat. He’s lost his tether, he’s lost the only thing that ever brought him back to safe harbour. Now he’s just _lost_ , lost, lost at sea in raging storm and tempest. “You know that! You know that, you can’t believe that he’s dead! He’s your best pilot and you aren’t even—”

“Cadet, you _will_ behave.”

“No, I won’t!” Keith’s hands are balled into fists, his nails digging into his palms because he needs _something_ to ground him.

( _A hand rests on his shoulder, gentle but still firm, still present. “Breathe. Focus. You’ll be okay.”_ )

“We have made allowance for the fact that you’ve lost a friend, but this is unacceptable,” Iverson snarls. “Shirogane is dead. We’ve made grief counselling available for those of you who need it, and you _clearly_ do—”

Keith shoves the chair in front of Iverson’s desk to the side so he can march closer, ignoring how it spins away wildly to crash into the wall. “I don’t need counselling; I need _answers_. There’s no way Shiro crashed, and even if he did, where are the tapes? Where’s the wreckage? Where the hell is any _evidence_?”

(“ _Just work your way through it slowly. You’ve got a brain, Keith; use it_.”)

Keith’s voice cracks over the last word, because Shiro _didn’t crash_ ; Shiro _couldn’t_ have. Shiro’s too smart for that, too fast, too clever.

Too loyal to Keith.

He _promised_.

(“ _I’ll be here, as long as you want me_.”)

Keith’s breathing heavily, glaring at Iverson, who’s just watching him. Beneath that stony glare, Keith feels the last shreds of his hope crumble to ashes. “Get out, Cadet,” Iverson says eventually. “And don’t you dare come into my office again.”

Ice-cold fire runs through Keith’s blood, and for a moment, his vision whites out.

Then he storms over to where the chair had skidded away, and drags it back over to the desk. Sits himself down across from his supposed commanding officer. “Okay,” he says calmly. “I won’t come in again.”

Iverson stares. “Cadet, you better get your ass out of my office immediately.”

Keith’s heart pounds, but the feeling is distant. Everything is fog and numbness since Shiro disappeared without a word. “No.”

Iverson storms around the desk to stand, tall and imposing and _furious_ as he towers over Keith. “Cadet, get _out_.”

“No.” Keith grips the chair with everything he’s got. Iverson looks this close to actually hitting him, but if they want him out they’re going to have to drag him away.

( _A fond laugh._ “ _So stubborn. You’re really something, huh?”_ )

“Pack your things, and leave. You’re done.” Iverson’s tone is ice cold, but cutting enough even as Keith yells at him.

“I’m not leaving! You can’t make me leave. Give me Shiro _back_.”

(“ _I’ll be back in no time_. _Just you wait, and then we’ll go together, hm?”_ )

He won’t—he _can’t_ think about it.

( _“Keith, talk to me?”_ )

He can’t. He can’t, he can’t—

( _“I’m here for you_.”)

 _No, you’re not_.

“Cadet!” There’s a grip on his arm, and Keith lashes out, fists flying. His blows doesn’t connect with anything, but then someone else is grabbing his wrist. He tries to shake them off, but it’s another battle he can’t win, and they’re dragging him away from the only person who has any way of making this all right.

“No, fuck you! Fuck you, give me Shiro back!” He’s screaming and kicking, but he’s too _weak_ to fight—

(Too tired. Too numb. Too nothing.)

He’s horrified at himself. This isn’t—this isn’t him. This uncontrollable rage isn’t him, because he’s never been angry like this. He’s never been wild from pain, felt as though he couldn’t go on with his aching heart. He’s never felt grief so furious that it burnt his heart and drove it to freezing numbness all at once.

But he’s never lost like this either. He’d never dared to believe in anything, anyone other than Shiro, because all it ever brought was disappointment and pain.

This is so, so much worse than anything that’s come before.

“Give him _back_.” His snarls are weaker now.

Shiro’s gone.

Shiro’s gone, and they’re not going to be looking for him. Keith—Keith is too weak to save him alone. Keith’s only one boy, one pathetic, nothing of a pilot. He clung desperately to Shiro like a lifeline, and now that’s been pulled taut and ripped away. Keith can’t do anything, and the Garrison _can_ but they _won’t_ ; he fights because as that last, absolute last hope slips away, so does Shiro.

“You’re done, Cadet.” Iverson’s words are final.

Keith screams because it condemns Shiro to death. “No, give him back! You took him, you—you stuck him on that damn ship, bring him back! You’re the only ones who can _do_ anything. You’re the only ones who can fix it, why aren’t you _trying_ to?”

Keith yanks violently at the firm grip on his arms, but the officer just holds him tighter until it’s aching. Iverson draws his face level with Keith’s, and he’s breathless and aching and _hurt_.

“Please.” He chokes on the word, but he doesn’t know what else is left to do. His throat is burning with unshed tears, and the anger’s fading, fading away to leave nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing, where Shiro once was. “Please, you’ve got to bring him back.”

 _He promised me he’d come back_.

But Iverson is cold as he nods at the others to take Keith away.

His words as they drag Keith out echo in his mind for years.

“Shirogane would be disappointed in you.”

* * *

 

It’s cold. It’s quiet.

The desert wind howls outside, and Keith shuffles deeper into his blanket.

He hasn’t moved in days. He should, because the water bottle he’s got tucked beside him is starting to run out, and there’s something in his stomach that might be hunger. He can’t tell anymore. He doesn’t know how to, when all he feels is sick grief. Whatever it is, he can’t bring himself to leave the warmth.

He doesn’t want to cook. He doesn’t want to move. He doesn’t want to go outside, find supplies, do what he’s meant to do to survive.

Because no matter what he does, there’s no one to share it with.

Not anymore.

 

_Shirogane would be disappointed in you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed it!!
> 
> Can be shared on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/starchydreams/status/901562070654566400) and [Tumblr](http://shiroganedefencesquad.tumblr.com/post/164648229194/share-my-forever-love-chapter-5-a-sheith)! Thank you for your support!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry for the missed update a few days ago, real life and deadlines are kinda kicking my butt a little. I'm also working on my Sheith Big Bang (which is turning out to be...quite long) and pushing to get that done so have been a little busy! I'll be posting that next weekend - it's a band AU where Shiro's the lead singer in an intergalactic pop group and Keith's part of the stage crew that he meets on tour. So far I've hit 47k and it's...still going ^^; If you're interested, keep your eyes peeled for that! I'll be posting it all on the 9th, so look out for it :D
> 
> Without further ado, here is the continuation of the good stuff. As always, comments are super appreciated, especially with all the deadline stress.
> 
> (Also please excuse any inaccurate dialogue - I was too lazy to find references.)

“ _It’s good to have you back_.”

“ _It’s good to_ be _back_.”

And it’s true. He’s finally found home again, but whether or not he’s _whole_ is a different thing completely. The past year—though he’s not certain how long it’s been, how long that grey blur lasted—has been too much to process. It shattered him to pieces, and he’s only just observing the wreckage now.

(Keith’s hand leaves Shiro’s shoulder, drawing a very present space between them that neither of them want.)

But he smiles to reassure, and he promises this: he won’t let this darkness escape his lungs and taint what’s between them.

* * *

This is how it was meant to be: victory and celebration and applause, a triumphant return from the furthest boundaries known to the human race. Keith would run to Shiro, arms and heart open, to be swept up in a fierce hug after so many, many months apart. Because Shiro was curious and excitable and passionate, he would babble about the things he’d found, and share his stories of gorgeous asteroid belts and finding the tiniest pebbles. Keith would make him proud with all he’d achieved, so that he could join Shiro sooner amongst the stars.

But this is how it goes: Keith chasing an unknown _something_ , breaking into the Garrison out of curiosity and a little spite. A brief moment of sympathy followed by a flash of fury when he realises they’ve taken a prisoner, a _human_ prisoner, and then—

Then ice.

Cold fed through his veins.

“Shiro…?” His voice cracks and his eyes widen. It’s not Shiro—his hair is different, the angles of his jaw sharper. And this man can’t be Shiro, because Shiro was— _is_ —dead.

But they never found a body. They—Keith _knew_ it had been a lie, he knew, he was right—

There’s no time for that right now, not when he’s a minute away from being arrested.

So he hauls Shiro up, and Shiro’s…bulkier than Keith remembers, but the feel of him in Keith’s arms is as familiar as his own name.

This is how it goes: saving Shiro, then saving the Arusians. This is how it goes: Shiro not having the answers that Keith seeks, instead focussing on this “Voltron” thing so they don’t have to dig too deep or feel too much.

Which is fine. It’s fine. It’s good, because Keith doesn’t know _what_ to feel.

There had been relief. Immediate, cold relief at the realisation that Shiro was back.

Then anger—at the Garrison, at _himself_ and how easily he gave up. Rage at the way that Shiro smiles now: barely there and always brief. Bitterness at the fact that the world refuses to _slow down_.

And inexplicably, the heavy grief stays. Shiro is back from the dead, but changed so much that Keith’s not really sure who he is. They were only apart for just over a year, and the decades of history between them seem to have been erased, the way that Keith was always afraid it would be. It’s crumbled to dust now, taking Keith’s tired, tired heart with it.

Then, he feels nothing.

The numbness returns, because _this_ Shiro is a stranger, but so familiar it hurts.

Keith wants nothing more than to sit with him, like he used to. Test out the sound of their silences now, because every moment they spend together seems to be filled with tension, and Keith aches for what was they were before, something simple and kind. For who _Shiro_ was before.

And he can’t even be angry at Shiro, because Shiro is…whatever he is. Fragile. Stronger. Harsher, a little more distant.

Different.

Different enough that where Shiro would have chased Keith down before—where Shiro had come back from a year away at the Garrison to tell a scrawny teen that he still had room in his heart for him—Keith instead watches from afar as Shiro learns himself again. They don’t get much of a chance for any time together either. The initial series of fights and rapid coming together, then Allura’s insistent and gruelling training regiment, mean they barely get time to sleep, let alone talk.

Although Keith is starting to suspect that Shiro doesn’t sleep. Not much, anyway, not with how he’s always the first to get up and the last to go to sleep, and how he’s got those shadows under his eyes. But Keith doesn’t know how to ask. Not anymore.

His Shiro is right there in front of him, but the picture’s distorted. See, Shiro goes away sometimes, when he thinks no one’s watching. But Keith has always watched out for him, even if Keith himself hadn’t noticed until there was nothing to look for. And Keith sees how Shiro stares at a spot on a wall, or digs his fingertips too tight into the skin of his stomach when he stands with his hands on his hips, as though no one would notice.

He didn’t used to do that.

Keith doesn’t know what to do with all this new information.

It’s been so long since he’s had to _learn_ about Shiro. Shiro’s always been constant knowledge in his life, and yes, they changed as they grew but never without each other. Whenever Shiro learned something knew, Keith was always there to listen to him figure it out. Every time Keith tried to puzzle through something, Shiro would be right by his side with guidance and support. And now it’s like they’re playing a broken record, skipping between incomplete snippets of familiar tunes, the awful silence of the unknown filling in what’s missing.

This is how it was meant to be: they would sit down together, once they managed to get a break, and their comfortable silence would come back in minutes. Keith would ask what happened, and Shiro would be able to tell him, haltingly, but trusting, about what he remembers. Keith would finally be able to hold him, to hug him and welcome him home the way he should have done when the Kerberos rocket landed back on Earth.

They would talk. They would work it out. They would have each other.

But that’s stupid, pathetic hope.

No, this is how it goes.

Training finishes, and they’re all tired, sprawled out on the floor. It’s been a few weeks (he thinks) since the food fight incident and they’re working better now, even if Keith hasn’t seen Shiro smile since. But it’s good to see that he’s a little more relaxed, staring at the little water packs curiously before he places the straw in his mouth, sipping delicately.

It’s kind of cute, and Keith is suddenly struck by how young he looks. Innocent, almost, like he was before…everything.

“You all did well today,” Shiro says abruptly, and Keith can almost see the moment he decides he needs to be The Leader and congratulate his team. The moment of innocence passes, and the tension is back in Shiro’s shoulders as the others murmur content agreements.

“Ready to kick Galra butt,” Lance says excitedly, and Keith scowls.

“We barely managed to walk without tripping over today,” he says. The Galra aren’t to be taken lightly; he’s seen the shadows that haunt Shiro’s eyes. “We’ve managed to win through dumb luck so far; we’re gonna have to get better before we’re kicking _anything_.”

Lance sighs dramatically, which just sets Keith’s nerves on edge even more. “Do you always have to be like that? You ever tried to be happy at all, maybe tried not frowning so much?”

 _I tried. The world didn’t let me_.

Keith opens his mouth to tell him that he’s just being realistic, and not everyone just manages to blunder their way through life on dumb luck, when Shiro steps in.

“That’s enough, you two.” Shiro’s firm, looking between the two of them as he frowns lightly. “We need to work together, not argue.”

Because it’s Shiro, and Keith doesn’t want to give him any more reason to look like he’s about to break at any moment, Keith swallows his pride and lets it go. “Shiro’s right.” He glances at Lance for a moment, but decides it’s not worth his time, before settling his gaze back on Shiro.

Shiro looks at him a moment longer, and Keith’s not sure what’s there: pride, satisfaction, mild annoyance. Either way, Keith feels like he’s being studied under a microscope, before Shiro looks away and gets to his feet. “Think I’ll turn in,” Shiro announces, voice carefully level. “Been a long day. You should all rest as well.”

And he walks away, standing tall, footsteps measured. Leaving Keith behind again.

Except this time, Keith’s driven by an urge to chase after him. He can’t—he can’t watch Shiro walk off, not again.

“I’m gonna head off too,” he says, abandoning his drink and scrambling to his feet. “I’ll see you guys later.” He walks quickly after Shiro (always chasing his shadow, always watching his back as he leaves). The hallway is large enough that Shiro _can’t_ miss the way Keith’s rapid footsteps are echoing, but he doesn’t slow down at all.

“Shiro,” Keith calls, speeding up to a light jog.

Shiro finally stops, but he hesitates for a moment before turning around. It’s another one of those things that Keith wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t so _used_ to Shiro. If he wasn’t so used to Shiro lighting up and whirling around as soon as he heard Keith’s voice. The fact that he’s keeping that distance, the fact that he’s lost that desire to see Keith?

That hurts.

“Hey, Shiro, wait a moment.” Keith catches up, and Shiro smiles gently.

“Keith.” Nothing more or less than his name, and even if Keith ached to hear it for so long, it only hurts more now that the sound is so blank.

But he swallows his pride, and his fear, and looks at Shiro with determination. “Can we—can we talk?” His voice stutters over the words because Shiro still looks at him with nothing.

“Sure. What about?”

Keith hesitates. “How you’re holding up.”

Shiro shakes his head, far too quickly. “I’m fine. Just tired, like the rest of you.” He laughs a little, but it’s forced. Shiro’s tired laugh isn’t meant to _be_ like that. Keith heard it enough when they used to study late into the night. When Shiro’s tired, he sounds slightly manic when he laughs, his voice croaky with fatigue (and affection, when he used to be with Keith). This? This isn’t it.

It’s so _wrong_. So many things are wrong that Keith wants to scream.

“Shiro,” Keith says firmly. He won’t let Shiro hide, not this time. “I know it—being away from Earth would’ve been rough. You—you know you can talk to me about it?” Keith never had to offer before; the words feel odd in his mouth, like bitter sandpaper on his tongue.

Shiro frowns. “Keith, I’m fine. Seriously.”

“You’re not sleeping,” Keith says bluntly. He is _certain_ of that, and it’s a truth that Shiro can’t deny. “We’re all tired, yeah, but you look like you’re dead on your feet all the time. Let—let me help you. Or someone else,” he suggests desperately. “Allura, or Hunk. They’re nice, let us—”

“Keith.” Shiro cuts him off, and he hesitates before placing his hand on Keith’s shoulder.

It’s familiar affection, but with all this _distance_ that it makes it hard to breathe.

“I’m fine,” Shiro insists. “I don’t—I don’t need help or anything, I promise. I’ll be fine.”

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

That’s another truth that he can’t avoid, and Keith gives Shiro credit for not shying away at least. This is where something softens in Shiro’s expression, and he drops his gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “It’s just...a lot to take in.”

Keith licks his lips. “Let me help you with it.”

Shiro hesitates. “Once I figure it out,” he says, after a long moment. “I promise, Keith.”

(It’s the third one he breaks. The third one, after _uni won’t change a thing_ and _I’ll be back before you know it_.)

But Shiro isn’t the only one who’s tired in his soul. Keith? Keith has spent the better part of two years grieving, angry and confused and numb in turns. Keith spent months chasing after the spectre of aliens and wondering if he was going crazy from the loss. Keith lost his best friend to radio silence, and then he lost himself to the dark.

And in the same way he’s not sure Shiro came back—not really—he’s not too sure he himself came back. Whatever does remain? It’s just...hurt. Hurt and fatigue, and there’s not enough fire in him to fight the smokescreens and smiles in Shiro’s armoury.

“Right.” He shuffles his feet, before catching Shiro’s eye. He feels humiliation crawl up his throat; why did he think he could help? “Well, I’m...open. When you need me.”

Shiro hesitates another moment, watching him, before he reaches out. Again, not something Keith would have noticed, had Shiro not loved him with his whole heart before. If Shiro hadn’t always reached for Keith willingly, like they belonged together. Where they should hug—Keith _knows_ it, because even if he doesn’t recognise the Shiro that’s here, he knows how _they_ fit together—Shiro just pats him lightly on the back, and draws away.

“Thanks, Keith.” Shiro smiles, and it’s barely there. Keith should be comforted by the fact that even now, Shiro can’t quite lie to him.

Funnily enough, he’s not.

“You should get some rest,” Shiro suggests. “We’ve been going pretty hard.”

And Shiro turns his back on him. Keith has put his heart on the line—not that he ever had any _choice_ , not when it comes to Shiro—and Shiro won’t meet him halfway.

Keith doesn’t know what to do.

Because this is how it goes: Shiro refuses to share with Keith.

* * *

 

Keith is watching him.

Shiro knows it. He’s been keenly aware of it since he came back: how Keith’s eyes track him as he moves, how Keith’s always so aware of where Shiro is, or how he so quickly identifies his absence.

(“ _You’ve been avoiding me_.” Keith was as blunt as ever, as observant as he had always been. Shiro didn’t know whether to love him or resent him for it.)

Unfortunately, it was a truth. Shiro _has_ been avoiding him. Since Keith brought it up, he’s been trying to bridge the gap. He’s been trying to touch a little more, gentle contact on his shoulder, or bright smiles when he sees him. But the way that Keith lights up, the way that Keith looks relieved and happy and a little bewildered when Shiro reaches out? It’s the entire reason why Shiro is so reluctant to do so.

Because as soon as Shiro draws away, when he does something he knows he’s not _meant_ to do, Keith’s face falls. Keith always had so much hope for Shiro, always believed in him with the whole of his heart. It was why Shiro loved him. It still is, though now the feeling leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and a curl of discomfort in his stomach. Shiro hates taking away what hope he has; it’s better to not give it at all.

Keith is watching him, and it’s the reason why he even _survives_. When Black spits him out—she’s screaming and doesn’t do so willingly, but it doesn’t hurt any less—Keith’s the one who realises something is wrong. Keith is the one who nudges Black out of Zarkon’s path, and Shiro is relieved, hopeful, despairing all at once. Because maybe it was always meant to be Keith, and the leader of Voltron was never meant to be that broken.

Then—

“Keith!”

Keith is on the ground. The Red Lion is being tossed around like a plaything—Zarkon always likes to torment his prey, the same way he’s tormented Shiro for so long—and Allura is calling for them to get back to the wormhole. Every bit of logic screams that Shiro is too far, that it’s too dangerous, that it would be better to leave Keith and _run_. His side is burning from Haggar’s wound, and he can feel it starting to affect him. Keith himself would tell him to go, to save himself.

But Shiro’s left Keith alone enough times. As much as he tries to draw this distance between them, when it comes down to it, Shiro can’t ever leave him behind.

So he dives in, ignoring the clamouring of panic (from himself, Black, both) as he knocks Zarkon back and rushes past him to collect Keith—precious, _safe_ —with his Lion.

“I’ve got you buddy.”

He hears Keith’s surprised breath over the comms, before his voice sounds in Shiro’s ear, every emotion as clear as if Keith were right in front of him.

“Shiro?” Confusion, relief, the residual fear and adrenaline.

“I’m here, I’ve got you.” Shiro flinches, resisting the urge to grunt in pain as his wound _pulses_. “We’re going to be all right.”

He can almost hear the way Keith relaxes. “Shiro. Thanks.”

But Shiro fails him, _again_.

They find themselves alone (but together, always together), adrift in space with two damaged lions and Shiro’s damaged soul.

Keith is watching him, but Shiro keeps his eyes trained on the horizon. It’s almost like home. The sun lights up the sky in yellow and orange, brilliant as it sets. Sure, it’s bigger than the sun back on Earth, but the feeling is familiar, especially with Keith by his side. If Shiro forgets where he is, ignores the armour he bears and the Lions behind him, he can almost imagine that they’re back at the Garrison, watching the sun cast its light across the blank canvas of the desert, living a simpler life. Far simpler than what he has now.

Of course, the ache in his side from the glowing alien wound is slightly different to being back on Earth (though not all that different to what he’s lived with for over a year now). But the scene is close enough that his heart aches a little, at the sight.

Keith must be having similar thoughts, because he shifts in his spot, then speaks. “We haven’t done this in a while, huh?” Keith’s voice is kind of absent, and Shiro doesn’t feel the need to take his gaze off the setting sun.

“Mm. Haven’t really had the time with the entire intergalactic war business.”

“Last time would’ve been back on Earth. We went out a few weeks before you left.”

Shiro swallows.

This is exactly what he’s been avoiding. This is why he can’t talk to Keith, can hardly bear to _look_ at him.

See, Keith keeps chasing what was. Keith keeps searching for the Shiro who left him, medals on his chest and smile bright with hope, and Shiro…

Shiro’s gone. He can’t let Keith look too closely, to peek under all the shadows only to realise that there’s nothing there.

“It was a good night,” Shiro says, keeping his voice level. “You should try spend some time with the others, see if you can’t have a look around the observation deck some time.”

Apparently, that’s the wrong thing to say. “I meant it’s been a while since we had time to ourselves like this,” Keith says, and he sounds a little annoyed. “Just us.”

And that is too close to what Shiro doesn’t want to talk about.

So he shifts, lifting his hand a little to inspect his wound, though he winces a little when it tugs at the burned skin. Predictably, Keith immediately shuffles closer, frowning in concern. “You okay? Do you need anything?”

Shiro shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. Nothing we can do but sit and wait.” He licks his lips, and steadies himself. “But...I did want to ask a favour.”

Keith looks up at him, earnest and open, and that’s why Shiro knows that Keith will make a great leader. If not now, then some day. “Yeah, anything.”

Shiro clears his throat. “If—if I don’t make it out of here, I want you to lead Voltron.”

There’s a moment, one more precious moment where Shiro can savour the gentle trust on Keith’s face. One single moment for Shiro to drink in the sight of Keith being open and trusting, and treasure that droplet of time in his heart forever.

Then it turns to anger. Anger turns to concern. Concern turns to fear.

“Stop talking like that,” Keith says hoarsely. “You’re gonna make it.”

Keith is afraid.

Keith is afraid, and Shiro’s the one who puts that fear there. “Keith—”

“You’re gonna make it,” Keith says, fierce conviction. “That’s not funny, Shiro. Don’t say things like that.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny,” he says softly, and it hurts a little that Keith thinks he’d throw it all away so flippantly. He’s—he’s _tried_ with Black. He wanted so desperately to be worthy of something, and there’s something between them that Shiro can’t explain. A link, a connection, the mingling of their souls. Shiro doesn’t know what it is, but it’s precious to him, one of the only things that he has left to himself now.

But it still isn’t quite enough, is it?

After all of that, after all the faith that Shiro had placed in their bond, Zarkon made Black reject him all too readily. He can’t forget the feeling of being adrift in space with nothing to tether him, terrified that his friends would die around him while he was helpless. He can’t forget that Black wouldn’t wake for _him_ when they crashed, and that Keith was the one to rejuvenate the Black Paladin’s Lion. Shiro hadn’t been able to move her, yet Keith, whatever he had said, had woken her.

She needs a better pilot, and Shiro knows none better than Keith.

“I’m not trying to be funny,” he repeats, pain and fatigue making his voice hoarse. “But there’s a very good chance that I won’t make it out of here, or even if I do, that I won’t get out in one piece. I need to know that Voltron’s in good hands, and no one has safer hands than you.”

“Stop it,” Keith says harshly. “Don’t talk like that. You can’t leave m—Voltron like that.”

Shiro opens his mouth to protest, but then there’s static over their comms. Keith dives for his helmet, the beginnings of a smile lighting up his face. “Hello?”

But there’s no need for a reply, because the Green Lion bursts through the clouds to bring them home.

Keith scrambles to his feet, grinning. Keith is smiling, as he should. Keith is smiling, and Shiro’s never ached to see anything more beautiful.

Shiro lets his gaze linger for a moment, but it’s a mistake. Because Keith turns to him, and there’s so much warmth and affection lighting his gaze that it’s almost blinding. “You’re gonna be okay,” he says, beaming. There’s still a little bit of lingering doubt there, but he’s smiling. Shiro doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve all that, and it hurts in a way that he can’t describe to know that all he’ll ever do is destroy that happiness.

So he turns his gaze skyward, and makes a faint noise of agreement. He keeps his eyes carefully trained on the Green Lion as Pidge makes her descent.

Keith is watching him, and Shiro cannot let himself look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sharing this on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/starchydreams/status/904112629647474688) and [Tumblr](http://shiroganedefencesquad.tumblr.com/post/164910370874/share-my-forever-love-chapter-6-a-sheith) always super appreciated. Thank you for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Slightly shorter chapter this time, but we're nearing (ish) the end and I really liked where this ended, so!! I hope you enjoy regardless!
> 
> The reason for the delay was a bunch of things including modding a zine and posting my Sheith Big Bang, which was a band AU that you can read [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12045192/chapters/27273318) if you want! Thank you again for all your comments and love, they really fuel me.

_“You could lead, if you learn some self-discipline.”_

_Shiro says it as though either of them want that._

_“Stop talking like that.” Keith speeds up, giving them both welcome reprieve._

_There’s sickness in his stomach, and he doesn’t want to think about the possibility, even if he knows that it’s all too real._

* * *

They don’t talk after the Blade.

Keith is raw with emotion, but they don’t talk after the Blade.

That’s fine. That’s cool. Keith doesn’t _care_. He doesn’t care about Shiro anymore, he doesn’t care what Shiro thinks about him, or about them. He doesn’t care enough to want to keep chasing after a fading shadow.

Except that’s not all it is, is it? Keith clung to far less, back on Earth, held onto the final particles of Shiro’s soul in desperate hope. The fact that Shiro is hurt and broken and not entirely the same? That’s not what gets to Keith.

He’s just sick of running after someone who doesn’t come back for him. When he started to suspect what his knife was and Shiro asked him if he was okay, he thought they’d might go back to normal. But it’s as though Shiro realised he’d stepped too close, and the distance since has only been greater. “I want you to lead Voltron” is the wedge that only drives them further apart, especially when Shiro knows, _should_ know how terrifying it would be for Keith to lose him again.

But maybe Keith has already lost him. He’s being left behind all over again, and this time Shiro’s actively _choosing_ to do so. When Shiro had gone away to the Garrison and left Keith behind in the town where they grew up, the silence had at least been unintentional. Forgetful, vague, stressed out Shiro who didn’t really know any better, not when he was that young.

But this Shiro _knows_. This is Shiro years later, the Shiro who has been with Keith every step of the way. This is Shiro who’s meant to know Keith, this is Shiro who once was comfortable and safe and—

And _home_.

This is the Shiro that Keith loves (how he loves him is not something he’s ready to admit), but he’s not sure how much longer he can go on loving when Shiro hardly sees him as a team mate, let alone a friend. Let alone his _best_ friend, his soul mate who he said he’d be coming back to.

(He promised. He promised, and it’s getting harder and harder to hold onto it.)

So they don’t talk after the Blade, even if the way back to the Castle is taut with…something. Some tension because of how much Keith had shown, even if it had been against his will.

Though there had been a foolish moment where Keith thought that they’d be all right, and that they were back to normal. When Keith had woken, groggy and shaken, and Shiro rushed to him with so much concern and fear on his face that Keith thought he still cared. But it was just a moment. One moment for Keith to remember what it was like for Shiro to hold him and support him, to be okay touching him again.

But as soon as Keith stumbled out of the Galra cryopod that they stuck him in after his Trials, Shiro was back to normal. Or their new normal. Hands on hips and a friendly clap of Keith’s shoulder. Nothing more, even if Shiro’s eyes lingered on where Keith was injured.

“You okay?” Keith asked, because he wasn’t sure what else to say. _Are we okay? Did I ruin everything, or was it already too broken for me to make it worse?_

Shiro smiled. Once upon a time (in fairy tales that have long ceased to exist), it used to make Keith light up. But standing in the headquarters of the Blade, ripped raw with emotion, it just reminded him that Shiro was always, always pretending. “I’m fine.”

So they don’t talk after the Blade.

Not until Shiro almost dies, a few days later. They’d touched down on a planet for supplies, and had a run in with some Galra-friendly locals.

And Shiro had thrown himself in front of blast to protect _Keith_.

As they wait for Shiro’s pod to open, Keith rages. He stands, staring at the pod, clenched hands shaking with fury.

Doesn’t he know by now? Doesn’t Shiro know, can’t he _see_ how much it’s ripped Keith apart to think that he was gone? How could he even think to do that to Keith again?

It doesn’t take long for him to heal. Shiro’s eyes open, and they find Keith’s immediately. But this time, Keith must be glaring so hard that Shiro can finally, _finally_ figure out that something’s wrong, because he turns away from Keith so he can smile at the others instead.

“You should be more careful,” Pidge says, concerned, even as she folds him in a hug.

And Keith’s not jealous. He’s not, not of the way that Pidge seems to be able to bridge a gap that Keith can’t even begin to figure out. He’s meant to be Shiro’s friend. He’s meant to be Shiro’s friend, and Shiro won’t let him love him.

The others gather round with similar words, and there are a few furtive glances at Keith, who’s still standing off the side, radiating anger. Sue him. His supposed best friend ( _not anymore_ ) wants to go get himself killed again, after over a year of Keith thinking that he was dead. Keith thinks he’s entitled to a bit of anger.

The rest of them shuffle off eventually, looking worriedly at Keith. Pidge even goes so far as to wrap him in a quick hug.

“Don’t hurt him too bad,” she says quietly. “He’s shaken as much as you are.”

Somehow, Keith doubts that; otherwise Shiro wouldn’t have thrown himself in front of an oncoming laser blast that was aimed for Keith. But he’s grateful for Pidge anyway.

“I’ll see you later.” He hugs her back briefly, and she leaves with a sigh.

Then it’s just him and Shiro.

And, as is damn familiar since they arrived here, Shiro won’t look at him.

So Keith marches up to him, fatigue shoving down the last of his defences and self-control to leave him furious and aching.

“Are you crazy?”

Shiro looks startled, then his expression relaxes and he just looks…tired.

“Keith, you did a good job out there—”

“A good job,” Keith repeats scathingly. “A good job doing what? Not getting shot because you decided it was a good idea to jump in front of me to take the hit instead?”

 _That_ surprises Shiro. Keith has lost his temper before, but not at Shiro. He was harsh with Pidge, and he finds it hard to control when Lance gets on his nerves, but he’s been so _careful_ with Shiro. There’s been that frustrating, unspoken something that remains unresolved between them since forever, a something which Keith rarely admits to himself. But it has meant that they’ve always been in sync, always been two halves of a single whole, because there wasn’t any other way to _be_. Since Shiro came back, broken pieces to match Keith’s own, Keith has struggled to figure out how those halves fit anymore. How he might climb over Shiro’s carefully constructed walls, or get around them, or through them, or wait patiently for Shiro to open up to him.

Because Keith has never had to reach for Shiro quite like this. On the rare occasion they weren’t on the same page, Shiro had always met him halfway. But Shiro refuses to do so now, so it’s up to Keith to go the whole way. It’s not hard, when anger and grief fuel him, hot and nauseating in his veins.

“You almost got yourself _killed_ ,” Keith snarls, shoving his hand against Shiro’s chest.

“I know what I’m doing, Keith.” Shiro’s voice is stern, but not harsh. God, Keith wishes he _would_ be harsh, just so he could break through this polite barrier that Shiro’s slammed down.

“Are you stupid? Are you that desperate to get away from us?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You—” Keith grabs Shiro’s arm, because Shiro’s shaking his head and backing away, and Keith won’t have that. Not this time. “Listen to me! Stop trying to block me out, it’s not going to work, Shiro!”

For a moment, Shiro looks shocked that Keith’s grabbed him, but then his expression clouds over again. But there’s a spark in his eye, a gritting of his teeth, that tells Keith he isn’t as in control as he wants to be. “I’m not blocking you out. There’s just some things you don’t need to know about. End of discussion.”

“I don’t need to know about.” Keith lets Shiro go, glaring up at him. “No, we’re talking about this. You can’t just throw your life away like that. I don’t care how many of us are in danger. You can’t _do_ that, Shiro.”

“I’m your leader,” Shiro says, and his voice is hoarse. “I’m the leader,” he repeats, as though he’s clinging to it like a prayer. “I’m meant to protect you. All of you.”

“That’s it? You’re my _leader_? And what about you? You can’t—Shiro, I can’t—I can’t lose you _again_.” Keith’s voice is hoarse, the rage, the grief choking him. He’s desperate as he looks at Shiro, willing him to understand. “Not—not _again_. Don’t do that to me.”

“I—Keith, you know I didn’t come back,” Shiro says quietly, more vulnerable than Keith’s heard him in a long time. “You know that. You need to stop clinging to whatever I was.”

But Shiro is _there_. Keith can see it, even if he’s changed a little or a lot, underneath it all Shiro is still _there_ and still his. “You _said_ I was your best friend. You promised me that you’d still want me around. You used to trust me.” It sounds childish and stupid. But Keith had always been hardened against a world that didn’t want him, and the one thing he clung to, the one childish, stupid dream he ever allowed himself to believe in, was that Shiro would always want to be by his side.

“Keith…” Shiro sounds so disappointed. Keith wishes _he_ didn’t have to be the one to put that broken expression on Shiro’s face. “I—I do.”

The hesitation speaks for itself.

Keith sucks in a breath. The night he rescued Shiro, they’d dived off a cliff to shake off the Garrison guards. In that moment, Keith had smiled, trusting absolutely in the machine in his hands as they’d plummeted.

These past few months, he’s been crawling to this precipice. Trying to drag the broken pieces of himself and Shiro together, fighting the twisting of his heart at every aborted touch, every averted gaze, and all the words left unspoken. All the while he’s been waiting for Shiro to follow, but now he’s here, staring down, and he’s reminded of that split second before the fall.

But this time Keith doesn’t know where it goes, and he steps off, alone.

“You don’t know what it was like to lose you,” he says hoarsely. “You don’t know how—you were all I _had_ Shiro. You were all I had, and then you were gone, and when I saw you back—”

“I didn’t _want_ to go,” Shiro says, and his fists are clenched now. “I didn’t ask for this either.”

“I’m not saying you did, just—just let me _be_ here.” Keith wants to grabs him, Keith wants to hit him, Keith wants to hold him. “You say you trust me but you _don’t_. You’re not letting me help you.”

“It’s—it’s not like it’s easy, Keith, I—”

“I’m not saying it is, but you’re not even trying! I thought you needed me, I thought you wanted me around.”

“I can’t!”

Keith flinches.

 _I’ll always want you_.

“You said you did,” Keith says quietly, shaken. “You _promised_ me I was your friend, you said you wanted me around.”

Shiro sighs. “That’s—I meant I—I can’t _try_ for you, Keith. I…can’t be who I was before.”

“That’s not what I mean when I ask you to try, Shiro,” Keith says hoarsely. “I’m not expecting you to be the same.”

“Whatever you’re expecting, I can’t be it.”

It’s almost as bad, the second time. The heartbreak is dull rather than the sharp pain of ‘presumed dead’ and ‘Pilot Error’, and this time, it’s watching Shiro disappear right before his eyes. This time, it’s Shiro leaving, and Keith knowing that Shiro doesn’t want to stay with him.

“All I want is for you to be my friend,” Keith says, helplessly, fight gone. “I don’t care if you’re not the same as before, I just—I just want you _back_ , I want us to talk again, I want—Shiro I haven’t had you hug me in over a year.” It sounds so _stupid_ , but he just misses Shiro’s warmth so much it hurts. “You can’t do that? You can’t just…talk to me?”

Shiro watches him, shaking, and that’s answer enough for Keith.

“Okay.”

He leaves Shiro there, dragging heavy feet and his empty heart from the room.

 _He doesn’t want you_.

Shiro refuses to share with Keith.

He’s been at the periphery his whole life. An extra addition to the family, the weird kid who boarded permanently at school, a drop-out pilot too angry to remain.

But Shiro refuses to share with Keith, and Keith has never felt more alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can share this chapter on [Tumblr](http://shiroganedefencesquad.tumblr.com/post/165418698889/share-my-forever-love-chapter-7-a-sheith) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/starchydreams/status/909221105218420736). Please do leave me a comment if you enjoyed it! See you soon :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man I haven't even had time to respond to your comments on the last chapter yet, but know that I am very grateful for every single one of them. It makes me very happy to know what you think. 
> 
> As you'll probably have guessed, this chapter continues to be sad for a little bit (though I promise it gets better), but thought I'd also note that Shiro kind of disassociates and has a mild freak out for a little bit at the start? Just in case anyone isn't super comfy with that. A lot of Shiro's feelings I write from my own experience, and his character in general is very near and dear to me. In case this needed mentioning, this fic is in no way looking to demonise him for hurting Keith - the way I see it, they're both incredibly young and dealing with far more than anyone should ever have to, and so figuring out the relationship between them on top of all that is just...everything's on fire. 
> 
> After that long ramble, please enjoy <3

There were times, back in the arena, when Shiro had become nothing. When screams of pain elicited as much response from him as being ushered away on his thrice daily bathroom breaks. Standing alone, in front of the cryopod, Shiro recalls the calm numbness with which he stabbed an alien—a Balmeran, he realises—through the head. He remembers standing there, dripping blue blood from his hand, and feeling entirely detached from his body. Zarkon won. Shiro’s body—no, not _Shiro’s_ , it belonged entirely to someone else—had simply been trained to fight and kill, not feel. He remembers the dull acceptance in realising he was becoming the weapon they wanted.

He remembers. He wishes he didn’t, but when has the world granted him a single wish?

(It had. It had in violet eyes and a voice so familiar it ached, but Shiro is throwing it all away.)

He remembers that vague detachment, and it’s that nothingness that sits, dull and sick in his chest, as Keith’s face crumples. He feels nothing when his friend, someone he is supposed to care for, cherish, love (and he knows, somewhere, that he still does) turns away from him, heartbroken.

Shiro watches with empty eyes as Keith walks away.

And feels nothing.

Then…he starts to smile.

The stars are spinning around him, and Shiro feels himself floating away more with every cycle. He smiles, because his heart is empty and clamouring all at once, and he has no idea what to do with the feeling. So he smiles without knowing why, does so simply because the itchy buzzing of his ( _not his_ ) skin tells him to do _something_. And what kind of monster did they turn him into to have him smiling in the face of Keith’s pain?

His feet move, one in front of another, as he absently follows the path that Keith took. But he doesn’t go looking, and instead finds himself staring at the open door of a darkened dining room. There’s only the glow of various buttons and displays lighting up small pockets of brightness inside, and Shiro stares at it blankly, his mind and soul heavy.

Keith has to be lonely. He’s never had anyone other than Shiro. He must’ve been lonely when Shiro disappeared, when Shiro broke all his stupid, empty promises to come back home to him. That is a thought that Shiro has turned over in his mind more than once. Sometimes with guilt, often with hatred and grief.

But now? Now, it passes through like a curious fact. It should mean something. It _does_ mean something, because Shiro’s heart physically aches in his chest, but his spirit is just too far away. He can’t make himself feel anything beneath the familiar distant horror at how they turned him into this shell—hollowed out, cracked and broken.

His feet have carried him inside the room, and Shiro stares at a faint outline of a chair in front of him, before resting his hand on it. The legs squeak as Shiro pulls it out, and amidst the screaming silence, it’s just too _grating_. He abandons it, collapsing to the ground instead, laying his legs out in front of him as his eyes flicker to the doorway. The dining table digs into his spine and it’s uncomfortable against his aching muscles, but all of that is just more details that don’t seem to matter.

He misses Keith.

Yes, despite the distance, despite how he’s been holding Keith at arm’s length, he misses him. It’s not like he _wants_ this distance, this off-balance something that seems to be crumbling to nothing. But Keith is fire bright—always has been—and Shiro is just…darkness. Blood on metal and shadows in an empty dining room.

There wasn’t ever a time when Shiro didn’t know Keith. Not that he can remember. Of course, his dad always told the story of how they met, sharing a swing and a sandpit in the park near his house, but _Shiro_ doesn’t know a time before Keith. Keith has always just been there. Learning how to ride a bike. Long study sessions into the night. The quiet, comfortable sleepovers where they’d stay up telling each other their secrets and their dreams until they fell asleep, tucked up against each other on Shiro’s bed, warm and content.

Zarkon’s taken that from him. Now Shiro has nothing of Keith other than those memories, blurred and dulled with age. Or well, that’s not entirely true. Keith is right there in front of him, but _Shiro_ …

Shiro is lost.

It hurts.

It hurts, the pain forming a lead ball in his chest and churning nausea in his stomach, and Shiro wants to _scream_. But he can’t, not here, not now, so he bites down on the feeling, grits his teeth until his jaw’s shaking, and clenches his fist until the fingers of his Galra hand creak with the force. But it’s still not _enough_. He can’t make it go away, and he’s _tried_. He’s been fighting to be normal—checking in with Keith, preparing him for the inevitability of Shiro no longer being a part of Voltron ( _unworthy unworthy_ ), done everything to support Keith without showing him all the brittle edges so that Keith didn’t have to rely on something so _weak_.

But Keith sees straight through that. He still wants Shiro, and that thought is terrifying. It’s been days and Shiro is still reeling over what happened at the Blade headquarters. Keith wanted _Shiro_ , of all people. Keith when battered, worn, and beaten to a pulp, wanted to see Shiro above all else. He had been so terrified to see Shiro leave that he would abandon the only connection he had to his family just to see Shiro stay. The way Keith had cried out his name still haunts Shiro, just as his heartbroken words from not ten minutes ago echo now. And just like back at the Blade headquarters, Keith’s pain is what makes Shiro desperately want to _fix_ this.

Because that power? The knowledge that he could hurt Keith, that he still has that hold over Keith’s heart?

That scares him. Shiro can’t bear to disappoint him. Not again.

He sniffs. A tear rolls down one cheek.

Shiro dabs at his eyes, but the tears well and he’s crying silently, alone in the dark, seated on the cold floor, shaking as he realises that he can’t _be_ without Keith. They’ve made him into nothing, but that’s the thing, isn’t it? Keith sees _something_ in him, something that is still worth cherishing and loving. God knows what the hell it might be, but Shiro is too selfish to risk losing that entirely. It was one thing to push Keith away when Keith insisted on staying, but now the thought of Keith not coming back is _terrifying_. If there’s anyone at all to trust he’ll take it.

 

“ _You used to trust me.”_

_Shiro hesitated, because it was the truth but he was so undeserving of it._

_“I—I do.”_

_Keith’s face crumpled in disbelief, and Shiro wondered what he did wrong_.

 

Shiro hiccups, remembering the look on Keith’s face, his heart clenching at the pure hurt there. He put that there. He put it there, and it’s up to him to right it. If he doesn’t bridge this distance now—even if it’s clumsy, even if he’s tarnished—Keith won’t be staying.

 _I want you_.

It wasn’t even a promise, back then, sitting on Keith’s bed with Keith’s heart laid bare and his tears rolling down his cheeks. It wasn’t a promise. No, it was something more.

Truth.

In a perfect world, Keith would find him. There would be a soft noise from the doorway, and then Keith would be _with_ him, a warm, comforting presence next to him. He would be patient and understanding, and know exactly what Shiro was thinking, just like he used to.

But…the world isn’t perfect.

It just isn’t. And elsewhere in the Castle, Keith is waiting for him too, probably aching for Shiro to come to him as Shiro aches for Keith. Keith _is_ patient and understanding, but god, how he must be hurting. They’ve both been broken to pieces, rebuilt a little, and lost a lot, and Shiro can’t fault Keith for not knowing him like he used to.

Hell, Shiro doesn’t know who he is anymore.

Their easy friendship hadn’t always been easy. They had to talk, and listen, and learn. And as much as Shiro wishes Keith could know him as easily as he used to, so much time has been lost that Shiro can’t expect that. He doesn’t know what exactly he wants _from_ Keith—or himself—but he knows that he just _wants_.

That hasn’t changed, even if everything else has—from his arm to the scars littered across his skin.

So Shiro gets up with heavy feet and a heavy heart. Maybe it’s time they talked, and listened, and learned. He walks to the wall panel and prods listlessly at the screen, the green glow of the Altean symbols lighting up the darkness. He’s been on the ship long enough to know how to operate the technology, but right now his mind is so tired that the new knowledge just slips away. After several minutes of scrolling and not being able to find the map or the security feed, he resorts to voice.

“Where’s Keith?” he asks tiredly, leaning against the wall. The unit blinks and shows a map. Predictably, the outline of their training room lights up orange. Shiro sighs, swipes a hand across his eyes, and heads outside.

Walking is an effort, but Shiro drags his feet anyway. His eyes feel tender from the crying, and his head feels like it’s stuffed full of sponges, but he has to find Keith.

Thankfully, he doesn’t run into anyone on his way. Whether this is by chance or because they all know to make themselves scarce when Keith’s whacking the gladiator, Shiro doesn’t know. But either way, he’s grateful he doesn’t have to explain himself or see anyone.

His steps echo down the hall, empty, empty, empty. It’s only when he stares at his leg moving for a little bit that he realises he’s still in the cryopod suit. Should he change? Would it matter for Keith to be reminded of Shiro’s close call, or…?

Shiro shakes his head. Bigger things to worry about.

As he approaches the training room, he doesn’t hear the grunts or crashes that he expects. Did the system get it wrong? But the light is on, so maybe Keith’s just taking a break. Which is probably better than Shiro awkwardly interrupting him mid-session, though not by a lot.

Shiro stares at the door, fists clenched by his side. It’s understandable if Keith doesn’t want to talk to him. The expression on his face when he left Shiro is burned into his mind; he hasn’t seen Keith hurt like that in a long time.

(He hasn’t seen Keith in a long time, not really. He’s been trying not to look.)

But Shiro still remembers Keith, even if neither of them are quite the same anymore. He still remembers how Keith would let out that little pained gasp, the harsh intake of breath before he stiffened his upper lip and used anger to hide his hurt. And Shiro saw that when he stepped out of the pod and turned Keith away again.

Maybe it was one time too many. Maybe they’re beyond repair.

His stomach churning with the brittle bones of broken things, Shiro raises his hand and raps his knuckles against the door.

To his surprise, it simply slides open, and...

Keith isn’t fighting. Keith isn’t even moving. Instead, he’s curled up on the floor, hunched over himself, staring at his knife. His fingers clench around the handle when Shiro opens the door, and it tells Shiro that Keith has noticed him, yet Keith doesn’t look up.

Shiro clears his throat, and takes a tentative step inside the room. “Keith,” he says, and the familiar taste of the name on his tongue is bittersweet.

Keith looks up at him, betrayal and fury and pain written across the trembling curve of his brow and the slight sneer on his lips. He doesn’t reply, which is what Shiro deserves, isn’t it? Shiro blocked him out with silence, and it’s only fair that Keith does the same now.

“Can—can I come in?”

Keith looks down again, and shrugs. “Do what you want. ”

Shiro will take that as a good sign. He’ll take what he can get, because anything is more than he deserves.

He walks to Keith, and the closer he gets, the more he’s reminded of Keith back in high school. Keith who kept his back to the wall because all too often he’d taken a hit from behind, Keith who kept his heart to himself because all the baggage and all the weight was just too much to share.

But his heart has always been kind and generous, and Shiro...

Shiro wishes he were a little more like Keith. Patient, understanding, empathetic.

So he tries. He _really_ tries to be. He swallows down the fear—because Keith has taught him to be brave, hasn’t he?—and sits down next to his best friend, his lifeblood, his soul mate.

The tiles are cool against one hand when he settles, and simply solid against the other. The cold steadies him a little, and the bright lights clear the fog in his brain. His mind is still muggy from the tears, but maybe that’s not the only reason. There’s just too much noise sometimes—all the thoughts and fears and pure emotion that he hasn’t managed to figure out yet. Things to do with himself, with Voltron.

And with Keith.

Where to even begin?

“I still want you,” he says quietly. It might be sudden, but that’s really the beginning and the end of it. “I’m sorry I haven’t shown you that. ”

Keith shifts next to him. He stays silent, turning the knife over in his hands, and Shiro gives him his time. Patience yields focus, his dad always told the both of them. And Shiro’s never told anyone, but the one person who has helped him be so patient throughout his whole life is Keith. Keith who has been there every step of the way, kind, forgiving, steady.

Patient.

The least he can do is to give that same patience.

Though when Keith speak next, Shiro’s not sure what good it does him.

“No,” Keith says quietly. “You don’t.”

Shiro’s heart constricts. “Keith...”

“I’m tired, Shiro.” Keith’s voice is hoarse, and he sounds more than tired; he sounds worn, as though enormity of the universe has weathered away his soul. Shiro knows, because Shiro feels the same way sometimes. Sometimes, the world is too much, and he’s too young to feel this weary.

“I waited,” Keith continues, hands trembling the same way Shiro’s heart shakes. “I waited and waited and waited for you, and then you came back, and...” He shrugs helplessly, and Shiro’s heart breaks all over again. “You weren’t the same. I didn’t expect you to be the same, but the only thing I _did_ expect was for you to be my friend, and even _that_ had changed.”

Finally, finally, he looks at Shiro, and the rage is stripped away to pure grief. With another tear through his heart, Shiro wonders if this is what Keith looked like when he disappeared. “What am I meant to do, then? That’s all—that’s all I ever wanted from you. I don’t need you to be the same, I just needed you to be my friend, and you keep pushing me away. What am I meant to do?”

Shiro swallows. Honesty. Keith deserves that. “I—I don’t know,” Shiro says. It might not be what Keith wants to hear, and uncertainty might not be what Keith needs, but it’s all Shiro has at the moment. Uncertainty, but delicate, fragile faith that they might survive this together. “We’ve been apart for a long time now, and I don’t know how we’re meant to fit back together. But…”

Shiro clenches a fist—his right one, staring at the way the plastic-like substance of his fingers glide along each other. “I don’t know how we’re meant to fit together, but I know that I want us to. I haven’t been showing that over the past couple of months, so I get it if you can’t anymore. But I still want you, Keith.” Shiro chances a glance at Keith, but he’s looking away now, and Shiro goes back to staring at his hand. “I’ve done a lot of thinking, and that hasn’t changed. I still want to be your friend. I still want you as _my_ friend.”

It’s more than Shiro’s let himself share over the entire time they’ve been on board the Castle, and he doesn’t know what to expect. He’s broken ( _he won’t want you_ ), entirely different from the Shiro that Keith knew at the Garrison ( _he’s chasing a shadow of what you were_ ). But days ago, lying bruised and beaten on the cold floor of the Marmora base, Keith wanted to see Shiro. It might be stupid, it might be childish to hope that it means something, but Shiro clings to that.

Again, he gives Keith his space. Again, he gives Keith his time, even if waiting has him grinding his jaw again, and digging his nails into him palm.

Then there’s a hand—skin rough and cold—tugging at his hand, unfurling his fist before he can hurt himself even more.

Shiro doesn’t look up. The relief might be too early, the hope too soon…

“Do you mean that?” Keith asks, his voice hoarse. It’s still hollow and slightly disbelieving, and Shiro doesn’t blame him. He hasn’t exactly been someone to place faith in for a while now.

Shiro doesn’t look up, and just stares at where Keith’s fingers are tentatively resting beneath his. It used to be that Keith’s fingers would curl around Shiro’s hand, as though they belonged like that, joined together. Keith doesn’t do that now, but he’s taken the leap of faith, and Shiro…

Shiro needs to jump with him.

He turns his hand over and clasps Keith’s in his own. “I do. I mean all of it. I—I miss you.” He swallows, and finally he looks up.

Keith’s eyes are wide, his face pale, and the way he bites his lip to keep it from trembling is achingly familiar. His eyes are red too, and Shiro hates that he hurt Keith like this.

“I miss us,” Shiro says quietly. He’ll say it however many times Keith needs to hear it. “I want to be us again. I want to be a unit with you again.”

“You can’t back out on that,” Keith says, his voice ragged and desperate. His fingers squeeze Shiro’s, telling Shiro that he’s afraid of what he just voiced. “You can’t, Shiro, I—I can’t take it anymore. I can’t keep chasing you.”

“I’m going to stay,” Shiro says, and he tries to believe it with all his heart. “I—I can’t promise that nothing will happen to be, but I can promise I won’t stop _wanting_ to stay. I’m—” He clears his throat, hopelessly trying to rid himself of the desperate ache in it. “I’m sorry I made you think any differently.”

Keith looks at him, still stiff, fingers still gripping Shiro’s like a vice. “Shiro…” He inhales, and his hesitance hangs between them. Shiro waits, gently stroking his thumb over the back of Keith’s hand. Talking to strangers had never been a strong suit of Keith’s; the fear of an unkind reaction kept any need to divulge his feelings at bay. And right now, Shiro isn’t the same person he used to be, so he gets that Keith needs a moment. He’ll wait as long as it takes.

When the moment finally comes, it’s in two words, hushed and hesitant: “I’m scared.”

Shiro wishes he didn’t have to be, but…

“Me too,” he admits. He sighs, and swivels so he’s facing Keith properly, his knees protesting a little as he tucks his legs underneath himself. “I’m scared that…you’re going to see what they made me into.” He swallows. “That’s what I was scared of. Still am. But Keith, you’re my best friend, and we’re out here alone, and I want for us to figure each other out again. If you’re okay with that.”

Keith watches him, and there’s so much grief on his face that Shiro doesn’t know what he’s thinking. Is he wondering how Shiro is different? How he might let him down again? The million and one ways that Shiro’s broken and tarnished and scarred?

Shaking arms wrap around Shiro’s shoulders, and then there’s warmth pressed against his neck and Keith halfway in his lap as he envelopes Shiro in a hug that feels like coming home.

“I missed you.” It’s whispered against Shiro’s skin, a quiet, delicate confession that Shiro accepts and keeps protected in his heart. “I miss you, Takashi. You have no idea, I—I didn’t think I’d see you again, and when you came _back_ , I just—I missed you so much.”

There’s no more room to hesitate now, and Shiro pulls Keith closer, pressing his face to Keith’s hair and drinking in his presence, _Keith_ , with him again. “I missed you, too,” he says shakily, the words muffled against Keith’s hair. “I—I thought about you a lot, Spitfire.”

Keith’s breath hitches, and he seems to hold Shiro all the tighter, pressing himself right up against Shiro’s chest. Shiro doesn’t mind at all, far from it. He understands; they are two parts of the same whole, so he understands. He knows Keith better than he knows himself some days, but this bond between them is something they share together, so Shiro gets it. They’ve been separated so long—both unwillingly, and because of Shiro’s stupid, forced distance—that now they’re together again, being apart seems unimaginable.

The time apart means that there’s learning to do. Shiro’s afraid of what they’ll find in him, but…Keith is here. If Keith is here and risking his heart, then Shiro can do the same.

He cups the back of Keith’s neck with one hand, rubbing his cheek against his hair. They fit different now. Keith’s hair is longer and it tickles Shiro’s face, and Shiro’s shoulders are broader, his arms stronger. But the way that Keith holds him is the same—solid and real, his fingers digging into Shiro’s back—and that’s a start.

“You should get some rest,” Shiro says eventually, his voice breaking the gentle quiet. “It’s been a long day.”

Keith nods, but doesn’t let go. “You too.”

Shiro strokes his hair—it’s softer than he remembers—for another moment, before tugging at Keith’s arm. “Come on, you need to go to sleep.”

Keith sighs. It’s maybe odd that, to Shiro, Keith’s exasperation feels like hope. “Okay, okay.” Keith gets to his feet slowly, and Shiro groans as he does the same. Even though he spent time in the pod, his body is not liking the lack of rest after such a close call, and he stifles a yawn as he turns to Keith.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Keith looks up at him, and searches his eyes. Shiro wonders what he’s looking for. “Were you crying?”

Shiro tries not to be found. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

But Keith shakes his head, and sighs. “Shiro…let me.”

At that, Shiro smiles tiredly, because that’s so much like Keith. No nonsense, just a heart of gold and determination to protect anyone who is lucky enough to earn a part of it. “I did. But I feel a lot better now.”

Keith shakes his head, touching his cheek gently. “You shouldn’t be crying,” he says softly, and Shiro smiles because Keith is so good to him.

“I’m not anymore,” he says.

Keith frowns. “You shouldn’t be crying at all. Not alone.”

Shiro shrugs, and looks a little sheepish. “I think I probably needed it. It’s been a while since I did.”

Keith hesitates, but then he nods. “Yeah, I get the feeling.” He rubs Shiro’s arm gently, and the action is brisk and fond, and it makes something swell in Shiro’s heart. It’s such a simple little movement, but it warms him like nothing else.

Then Keith smiles, _properly_ , a sharp grin even if the edges are tinged with fatigue. “You really look like a fashion icon right now, don’t you?”

Shiro blinks, confused. He looks down, then he smiles as well when he remembers he’s got the pod suit on, in all its creamy coloured glory. “I try my hardest out here.”

Keith chuckles, and he nudges Shiro. “Should get to sleep. Your pyjamas are probably better looking.”

Shiro nods, heart feeling lighter than it has in months. “Let’s go then, so you can stop calling the fashion police on me.”

Then head off to their rooms, and finally, finally they seem to be in sync once more. Shiro’s gait is a little slower than Keith’s, his steps a little more measured, but they walk side by side, fingertips barely brushing as they head to their rooms. The corridors echo with their footsteps, but where the sound was lonely before—Shiro’s isolation ringing down the hallways—it’s companionable now. It sounds a little more like home and life.

When they finally get to their rooms, there’s another moment of hesitation.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Keith says, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

Shiro nods, but he doesn’t want Keith to go. “I guess so.”

Keith smiles, but neither of them move.

On impulse, Shiro reaches forward to hold Keith’s arm, and then he pulls him into a hug. “Thank you,” he breathes, and Keith relaxes after his initial moment of surprise.

“What for?” His arm circles Shiro’s waist, and it’s a blessing to be able to relearn the feeling. A gift to be able to have Keith with him again, and he is so grateful.

“For another chance.” At their friendship. At life. At learning to be himself, and learning what he can be for Keith, and with Keith.

Keith squeezes him tight. “I—you know I can’t stay away from you,” he says. “Not really. I never could.”

And Shiro’s the same. He can’t stay away from Keith. Not really. Not since they were young and Keith caught his dad’s eye as he waited for the swing. Not since high school when Shiro went away, forgot, neglected, and came back still wanting.

Shiro doesn’t want to let go now either, and he’s tired. Shiro’s tired of missing Keith, and out here where no one knows where they might be the next day? Shiro can’t find it in himself to care.

“You can stay in my room, if you want,” he offers. “Think the bed’s big enough for both of us.”

Keith draws back a little, and Shiro might be worried about crossing some line if they hadn’t done this so many times in the past. They might have to relearn a lot of things about each other, but being together and having Keith by his side? He’s been doing that for a long time, even if he’s been trying to deny it.

Keith watches him for a moment. “Are you sure? I know your space is important to you.”

Shiro smiles, because it was when he was younger, and even more so now after everything that’s happened. Keith must realise, unless he’s simply very good at reading Shiro, which, come to think of it, he always has been. Either way, Shiro smiles because Keith would think to ask. “It’s fine,” Shiro says. “I don’t mind if it’s you. But thank you.” He tugs gently on Keith’s bangs, making Keith crinkle his nose.

“If you’re sure then.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Shiro opens the door to his room, and gestures for Keith to go inside. Keith enters after a moment’s hesitation, with a glance and a smile in Shiro’s direction as he passes. Shiro follows him inside, and Keith sits down on the bed with a sigh, looking around.

“Guess all the rooms are pretty much the same, huh.”

Shiro nods absently, closing the door behind him. “Make yourself comfortable. Do you need a change of clothes?”

Keith shakes his head, and peels back Shiro’s blankets to tuck himself under. “Nah, I’m all right.”

“Just let me know if you do.” Shiro picks up his own pyjamas from where they’re folded at the foot of the bed, then…he glances at Keith, uncertain.

Keith frowns, watching him. “What’s wrong?”

Nothing.

Or, nothing _should_ be wrong. They’ve done this before. The sleepovers when they were younger, trying on the other’s shirt, the communal showers back at the Garrison. Nothing should be wrong, but it is, and Shiro can suddenly feel the way his skin pulls at itself unevenly, how some patches of him simply don’t register the rub of the cryopod suit against them.

“I—” He clears his throat, clutches his pyjamas tighter. “I’m just going to pop into the bathroom for a moment.” He forces his voice to steady, and hopes that Keith won’t hate him for it.

Keith’s eyes widen briefly, before his face softens with understanding. Shiro nods, and has taken a step towards his adjoining bathroom, when Keith turns around in the bed so he’s facing the wall.

“You can change here.” His voice is muffled against the pillow. “I won’t peek.”

Shiro’s heart lodges in his throat. “…Thanks.”

He hates it. He hates that this is how he is, but as much progress as they made tonight, he still isn’t quite ready for Keith to see all the broken bits. Not like this. Not while they’re still raw from all the hurt.

But still, Shiro feels a twinge in his heart when he strips the suit off and shrugs his shirt on, moving quickly so the moment doesn’t drag on. Cloth drapes loosely over his frame to hide his skin once more, and he’s silent as he pads over to where Keith is lying. He joins Keith under the covers after another moment, and Keith turns around to watch him as he settles in.

“You feeling okay?” Keith asks, quiet hesitation.

Shiro pulls up a smile for him. “Yeah, I’m good. Go to sleep. You’ve had a long day.”

Keith nods, and buries his nose under the covers the way Shiro knows he likes to. “You think any of the others will mind us sharing a room?”

Shiro shrugs. “Don’t see any reason for them to.”

Keith nods sleepily, his eyes drifting shut. “‘Kay. I’m glad you’re back, Kashi.”

A handful of words, and Shiro feels himself wanting to cry. “I’m glad to be back with you, Spitfire.”

The corners of Keith’s closed eyes crinkle in the ghost of a smile. “Night.”

“Night, Keith.”

Shiro flicks off the light, but the gentle glow of the clock casts enough light to let Shiro watch as Keith falls asleep slowly, his breath evening out and the tension eventually leaving his body entirely. Shiro watches him, trying to relearn the planes of his face and the depths of his heart from this privileged proximity. His face is a little more angular than when Shiro left him on Earth. It was something that Shiro noticed but now he’s up close, it’s a little bit more prominent. But this face is still the same one that Shiro knew from their nights spent together, in his room or sharing one of their dorms. It’s one that, on quiet nights when he’s alone with his thoughts that aren’t swirling a hurricane, he lets himself remember falling in love with.

Shiro smiles to himself, and closes his eyes. Keith is with him, and though they’re a thousand light years from Earth, another part of his soul has come home.

* * *

 

_You’re just thinking of yourself._

_Yourself._

_That’s all you think about—yourself._

_I can’t want you, not anymore, not someone as selfish as you._

_They’re in his room, back at the Garrison. It’s decorated with Shiro’s Lego sets that his dad bought him, all of them hanging in a garden that Keith can see just beyond the wall. Shiro’s dressed in his olive and gold, badges proudly adorning his chest, the Black Lion at his side._

_“I never wanted you.”_

_Shiro fades._

_Keith screams his name._

_No. No, no, no he can’t leave, not like this. Keith doesn’t want him to leave. “Shiro!” He tries to run towards him, the dismissive curve of Shiro’s lips making him choke on his breath, but he can’t move._

_“Shiro. Shiro, please!”_

_“I don’t need you. I don’t want you.”_

_“No, no, Shiro, please! Don’t leave me, don’t leave me alone!” The words are choked on tears, and Keith’s throat aches with sobbing, screaming, trying his best to get to Shiro but he can’t_ move _. He can’t move, and Shiro is right there, fading in front of him, leaving him again. Red flying off into the horizon without him, his dad turning his back, Shiro’s voice melding with that of Zarkon’s, mocking him._

_Don’t want you don’t need you don’t want you selfish little—_

Dark.

No, not entirely; there’s a slight blue-ish glow to the air, and…Keith’s in the Castle.

He takes a deep breath and shifts, sitting up and—

“Ow.”

Something bumps against his shoulder, and Keith stiffens. But wait, that voice… “Shiro? What—”

Oh. He remembers, maybe a little later than he should have. This is Shiro’s room. Not his own. That means…Shiro stayed.

Keith’s scattered thoughts finally rearrange themselves so that the knowledge that Shiro is here, _with him_ , suddenly flashes neon bright with importance. “Shiro, you—” He swallows the lump in his throat, his eyes readjusting to the darkness. “You’re still here.”

The dark gradually becomes clearer, and he can see the sheepish expression Shiro has on his face as he rubs his head where Keith must’ve bumped it. “Yeah, of course.”

Keith moves forward, placing his hand over Shiro’s that’s still rubbing the spot on his head. “Sorry about the bump. Are you all right?”

“Yeah, and it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have been hovering over you like that.”

“Weren’t you sleeping?”

“I was, but then you kinda jerked in your sleep. I woke up, and you were still tossing around a little.” Shiro’s expression softens into concern. “I was debating whether to wake you or not, but then you woke yourself up.”

And now that Shiro’s reminded him, the images drift back into his mind with painful clarity. Shiro disappearing. Shiro dismissing him. Shiro not wanting him, and the painful ache in his throat returns, the pain from sobbing hard enough to feel his soul break to pieces.

He sucks in a shuddering breath, the loss and grief hitting him all over again. “I—I’m sorry.”

Shiro must hear something in his voice, because he’s shifting forward, placing his hand, gentle and warm and real, delicately on Keith’s knee. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologise.”

But Keith lowers his head and shakes it, clenching his teeth as he tries to fight the feeling that Shiro might be gone. “You—” He lunges forward, slinging his arms around Shiro’s neck and burying his face against his chest. “Bad dream,” he manages to choke out. “Don’t go. Don’t go again.”

Shiro’s arms are around him. Shiro’s arms are around him, and with that strength rubbing gentle love up and down his spine, he can believe that this is reality. This is his life, and Shiro is here to stay. “I’m all right. I’m right here for you. I’m still here. I want to be here, as long as I can.”

Keith nods, and closes his eyes, breathing him in.

They must fall asleep some time during the night, because when Keith wakes, it’s to Shiro lying next to him. They’ve both managed to abandon the pillow in favour of simply curling around each other, Shiro’s arms slung protectively around Keith’s shoulders, and Keith’s fingers clutching Shiro’s shirt.

They go about their day as normal, except this morning when Keith greets the day, it’s to Shiro’s grey eyes and his kind smile.

Later, when they have to part for Keith to gather scaltrite and Shiro to rescue this Slav person, they watch as the others share vigorous handshakes. This is the longest time they’re going to be apart since they came together as Voltron, and none of them are comfortable with it.

And, Keith thinks when he glances at Shiro, the two of _them_ just came together, and now they have to part already. It’s that thought that’s running through his mind when Shiro catches his gaze and offers his hand, and Keith knows some of it must show in his face, because next moment Shiro’s smiling and pulling him in for a hug.

“We’ll be back soon. Before you know it, Spitfire,” Shiro says, voice quiet and for his ears alone.

Keith can’t find his voice, but simply nods, and holds Shiro closer.

They stay like that for a long while, drinking in each other’s presence. Keith can see Allura standing not too far away, watching the two of them, but he just closes his eyes and buries his face against Shiro’s chest. They’re meant to be together, and no one else can tell him otherwise. They’ll be together, and Keith wants so hard to believe that.

With Shiro pulled close, his arm strong around Keith’s shoulders and his hand clasped in Keith’s own, Keith is starting to.

And when they part, it’s with the knowledge that there’s something shared between them that nothing can break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Links for [Twitter](https://twitter.com/starchydreams/status/910113575875747840) and [Tumblr](http://shiroganedefencesquad.tumblr.com/post/165508523274/share-my-forever-love-chapter-8-a-sheith). Shares and comments are hugely appreciated as always ♡♡♡ We're nearing the end now!


	9. Chapter 9

When Shiro’s gone again, Keith clings to hope from knowing that Shiro came back to him once. That if Shiro beat the odds and returned before, he can do it again.

With every night he spends in a cold bed and no one to share it with, Keith finds it harder and harder to believe.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, we're nearing the end now. This will be the last full chapter (I have a small epilogue that I will post mid-next week) but after that, it's all done. I'll write a longer note after I post the epilogue, but for the moment, thank you for coming with me on this ride. Please enjoy.

Keith.

 _Keith_.

Shiro hasn’t thought of much else in his absence.

When he returns, there is little else he can see. Nothing much for him to feel, other than this: the warm weight of Keith’s back beneath his palm, the incredible love that wells in his heart at the sight of him again, and the overwhelming sense of belonging when Keith comes running to wrap his arms around him in a long overdue embrace.

“Shiro.” His name in Keith’s voice—after so much _silence_ —feels like falling apart and coming together. “Shiro. Shiro, Shiro, Shiro—”

“I’m here.”

“Shiro—” Keith’s voice cracks over the syllables, the strain of grief still too much, still too close. Shiro wishes he could’ve spared Keith having to go through that again.

“I’m here,” he says again. The words are for both of them. Shiro can hear the terror in Keith’s voice, feel it in the way he’s shaking apart in Shiro’s arms with his fingers digging painfully into Shiro’s back. “I’m here.”

“I—god, _Shiro_.”

“I missed you,” Shiro whispers. He presses his face to Keith’s hair, closing his eyes so to feel the reassuring weight of Keith pressed against him and breathe in his clean, familiar scent. “My Spitfire. I missed you so much.” He runs his fingers through Keith’s hair, untangling soft strands with shaking fingers. The gesture doesn’t have a purpose, other than for them to be closer.

“I missed you, too, Kashi.” Keith’s voice is muffled and heartbroken against Shiro’s chest, but when he draws back, his eyes are dry despite the hurt written in his expression. He stays close, arms wrapped tight around Shiro’s waist, as though he doesn’t ever want to let go again. Shiro knows the feeling well.

“I—Takashi.” Keith’s voice trembles over Shiro’s name, and Shiro’s heart turns helplessly at the sound.

“I’m here. I’m staying, I promise.”

“Takashi, I—you don’t know how bad it was. You don’t know how much you…” Keith trails off, not being able to find the words. It’s impossible to speak of the grief, the loss, the horrible uncertainty. Shiro knows that.

So Shiro tries to heal Keith’s heart for him. “Keith, I love you.” Shiro keeps his voice soft, brushing at Keith’s bangs. “I know.” _You don’t know how much you mean to me_. “I know.” He has seen an illusion of himself leave Keith rejected and adrift. Keith’s greatest hope, and greatest fear.

Shiro knows how bad it was. Shiro knows how much he means to Keith, because Keith holds the same place in Shiro’s heart.

Keith leans in closer. He’s uncertain—his brow is furrowed, expression helpless, lips parted as he looks up at Shiro. Shiro cups his cheek and some of Keith’s tension leaves, though that helpless, confused expression doesn’t fade.

“I’m here, Keith. I’m here.” Shiro brushes a thumb across Keith’s cheek, and Keith sighs.

“Shiro…” He leans up, his lips a breath away from Shiro’s. “Me too. I love you, too.”

They’ve said it before, but never like this.

Greatest hope, and greatest fear. That’s what Shiro feels when he closes his eyes, and lets himself fall.

It’s gentle, and brief. Not much more than the soft pressing of their lips, arms still wrapped wonderfully tight around each other. But with it comes a promise and a dream, one that sees Shiro living out the rest of his life with Keith by his side. They don’t draw away when they part, pressing their foreheads together instead. An inevitable smile tugs at Shiro’s mouth, and the Keith’s dark eyes are beautiful, fond, and loving as they look into Shiro’s own.

Keith nuzzles against him gently. “You okay?”

“I’m doing great.” Shiro thumbs at Keith’s cheek. “What about you?”

“Yeah. Better now you’re back.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Keith shakes his head. “Not your fault. Shiro, don’t. It wasn’t your fault.”

Shiro swallows, the little whispers starting to creep back into his mind. Things like _you’ll hurt him_ and _monster_ , and the thought of being too cold and too broken to ever love someone like Keith. “I’ll hurt you again.” He knows that. He doesn’t want to let Keith go, but it terrifies him that he’ll only cause Keith more harm in the future.

Keith frowns. “Let’s get you back home. And then let’s get you cleaned up.”

Shiro watches Keith for a moment, knowing that there’s something more coming. “And then?”

“And then we’ll talk about…this. Us. I’m not losing you again, Shiro.” The words are quiet, but fierce and full of conviction. “Not again. And not to yourself. So we’re gonna talk.”

 _Shiro’s_ greatest fear would be for Keith to see all of him, all the broken pieces and malfunctioning parts. But he has never been able to refuse Keith, not when it comes to the two of them, and it’s how he finds himself seated on Keith’s bed a few hours later.

He’s freshly showered, and has had a quick spin in the pod to heal some cuts and scratches that he accumulated while he was away. Keith very insistently told Shiro to sit down, and now he’s busy wrapping his blanket around Shiro’s shoulders. It’s cute, the way Keith fusses over him. Cute, though Shiro’s heart aches a little at the thought that Keith might need to be doing this to convince himself that Shiro really is back.

Then the bossy forthrightness disappears, and Keith hesitates, crouched in front of Shiro with his hands still clutching the ends of the blanket.

Shiro tries his best not to disturb his cape when he pats the spot next to him. “Sit with me?” he asks quietly, offering his hand.

Keith smiles, and takes it, using it to tug himself up before sitting next to Shiro. Now, it’s Shiro’s turn to fuss, lifting the blanket a little so he can wrap an arm carefully around Keith’s waist and tug him closer. He tucks Keith under an arm, letting the blanket drape over the both of them. Keith’s weight is warm and familiar, the position reminiscent of their days at the Garrison before everything went to hell.

Next to Shiro, Keith shifts a little, pressing closer. “Talk to me.” Straight to the point, like he usually is.

Shiro sighs, glancing at him, before looking back down at his knees. His knees are safe territory. They don’t look at him with a terrifyingly honest love that makes his heart skip several beats. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Keith sighs. “I don’t _want_ you to say anything. Just…why did you say what you did before? About hurting me?”

Shiro swallows. Keith had helped him into fluffy pyjamas, and he stares at the sky blue creases of the cloth across his knees. He doesn’t want to look up only to see Keith lose his faith. “Because I will.”

“Shiro, what—”

“I have already, so many times.”

Shiro is not honest the same way Keith is. Keith might be secretive at times, hiding away when he feels the need to, but he has always been more comfortable with direct action. Shiro was never quite like that. The entire debacle and fall-out after coming back from Kerberos showed that. He wanted to pretend everything was fine, yet Keith had still seen through that immediately. Keith wasn’t deceived, and now that there’s so much more at stake, Shiro can’t even try to deceive him. “I left you behind on Earth. I didn’t come back for...god, I don’t even know how long. When I did, I hurt you, so much.”

Keith takes a breath, as though to argue, but Shiro interrupts him. “No, don’t say I didn’t. You’re the one who told me, and I’m grateful that you did otherwise who knows how long I would’ve gone on like that. And then I left. Again.” Shiro shakes his head, and his arm around Keith’s waist feels like a lie too. “I keep hurting you.”

“So...you’re scared.”

Shiro will never know if the cowardice within him was always there, or if it was birthed at the same time the Champion was. Either way, it’s been written into him now, and he will never get rid of it. He can’t be the brave pilot that Keith once knew. “Yeah. I am.”

“So am I.”

Shiro risks a glance at Keith. “I’m sor—”

“No, not of you, god.” To Shiro’s surprise, Keith just looks annoyed. “I’m not scared of you, okay? I’m—I’m scared of hurting you, too.”

Shiro blinks in surprise. “You never have.”

Keith looks sceptical. “I ran off with Allura, knowing you were terrified Zarkon would come after us.”

“You were just doing what you thought was right—”

“Yeah, and I didn’t talk to any of you about it at all. Same thing when I went after Zarkon by myself.”

“That was just us being part of Voltron, that had nothing to do with me.”

“You had to come bail me out. You had to go up against someone who—who’s hurt you a lot, because I decided to play hero. And Shiro, all the things you said have hurt me? The disappearing and everything? None of that was your fault.”

Shiro raises a shaking hand to cup Keith’s cheek. “You were still hurt so badly though. If I hadn’t—”

“—been kidnapped by aliens on a distant planet with no weaponry whatsoever? Yeah, if you hadn’t, then we might still be back on Earth and things would be a lot less complicated.” Keith lays his own hand over Shiro’s, stroking gently. “Not your fault. And it might be hard, but can we...try? Please?”

Shiro watches him, trying to search Keith’s eyes for any hint of hesitation or trepidation. “I’ll screw up.”

“So will I. I’m brash, and impatient, and sometimes I can only see things from my point of view. But you’ve taught me to work on those things. You make me better, Takashi.”

Shiro wonders how that could possibly be, when there is so much darkness in him. When there’s so much that’s bad, how can he make anyone good? But the fact that Keith believes it…maybe that means something. Keith is smart, independent, strong. He is kind-hearted and gentle, and it’s all those things that Shiro loves about him. It’s all those things that makes Shiro trust him.

Maybe it’s time for Shiro to trust him with his heart as well.

“Keith, you’re my best friend.” And he’s incredibly lucky to have fallen in love with him. To have ever met him. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t, I—”

“Which is why I want to try this.” Shiro smiles when Keith’s expression goes from argumentative to something softer and more hopeful. “I don’t want to lose you. Ever.”

“Neither.” Keith wraps his own arms around Shiro’s waist, hugging him gently. “I want to stay.”

“Let’s stay.” He’ll try to, as long as Keith will have him.

Keith buries his face against the crook of Shiro’s neck, and Shiro nuzzles at his hair. Then Keith mumbles something against Shiro’s skin, but Shiro can’t quite make it out.

“Hrm? What’s that?”

Keith lifts his head, and Shiro has to brush away a strand of hair that’s caught in Keith’s mouth. “Can we try kissing again?”

Shiro laughs lightly, but he his heart is doing little skips. “Yeah. I’d like to try kissing again.”

Keith sits up straighter, and it’s adorable how he gives this task such careful attention. Shiro wraps his arm more firmly around Keith’s waist, brushing his thumb lightly against Keith’s cheek. Keith’s eyes stay on his, and then his hand comes up around the back of Shiro’s neck, cool against his skin. “I love you,” Keith murmurs.

“I love you, too, Keith.” Shiro smiles, pressing his forehead to Keith’s. “My Keith. My little Spitfire.”

Keith huffs, frowning lightly. “Not little,” he grumbles, bumping his nose against Shiro’s.

Shiro just laughs, and moves forward slowly to kiss Keith with all the gentleness he deserves. Shiro’s never known warmth like this. Never known how the gentle brush of Keith’s lips against his could light a fire in his heart that spreads through every part of him, or how Keith’s firm hold against the back of his neck could feel so incredibly safe. They’re pressed up against each other, and Shiro wishes he could somehow be even closer, could somehow let Keith into his heart so that Keith might know how incredibly loved he is.

So he pours all his love into the kiss. Closes his eyes and caresses Keith’s cheek gently as he nips lightly at Keith’s bottom lip, wraps his arm tight around Keith’s waist to hold him close. _I’ve got you_ , he thinks when Keith relaxes, little by little, against him.

Shiro shuffles along the bed, tugging Keith with him as he lies down. Then he has Keith’s weight on top of him, and Keith’s mouth warm and soft against his. There’s something special in being able to share the same air, and to feel Keith’s breath move softly into his own. Keith has saved his life more times, and in more ways, than either of them know; his presence in Shiro’s life is as essential as the oxygen they breathe.

Shiro tilts his head and lets out a soft noise when Keith squeezes him tight around the shoulders. His own hands press steadily against the small of Keith’s back, not urging, never pushing, but just a simple presence. _I’ve got you. I will always be here for you._

Eventually, Keith rolls away to lie next to Shiro instead of on top of him. His arms are still looped around Shiro’s shoulders, and Shiro gathers him close, resting a hand on Keith’s shoulder. The bed is warmer with the two of them in it, but it’s not unfamiliar. This isn’t the first time they’ve done this, and a part of Shiro is amazed. How had they gone so long and been so oblivious?

“We should’ve done that way earlier,” Keith says, echoing Shiro’s own thoughts.

“Agreed.” Shiro rubs his hand absently along Keith’s shoulder, enjoying the presence. Yes, this is far from uncharted waters for them, and Shiro does wish that they’d done this a little sooner. “But we’re here now.” It’s reassurance, and a promise.

“Yeah.” Keith rests his head on Shiro’s chest, right above his heart. His fingers trace random patterns lightly over Shiro’s shirt, and Shiro sighs, the touch comforting.

“Keith…have you known for long?”

“Hm?”

“How you felt. Feel.” Shiro keeps his voice low, not wanting to disturb the calm. He closes his eyes, surrendering himself to the dark and the feeling of Keith’s warmth. Tired contentment washes over him. “Have you know for long?”

Keith is silent, his breathing steady. After another moment, Shiro wonders if Keith’s fallen asleep. Shiro’s debating if he should wake him up when he speaks.

“Didn’t realise ‘til I saw you just then, actually.”

Shiro blinks his eyes open. “Wait, Keith, are you sure—”

“Yes, I’m sure about this. Shush.” Keith huffs, prodding Shiro in the ribs. “It wasn’t all at once. I mean, when you were missing, I had a lot of time to think. And I realised I—I don’t want to live without you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Shiro gently kisses the top of Keith’s head. “Me too.”

Keith nods. “And when I saw you…well, I realised why that was.”

“I’m glad I came back then.”

“…You mean you wouldn’t have come back otherwise?” Keith is half-joking, but Shiro can still hear the grief there, and he can’t have any of that.

“Keith, no, of course that’s not what I meant. I’ll always come back. I’m just glad that we can be like this now.”

“I’m glad, too. Is it weird that it doesn’t feel that different?”

Shiro shakes his head. “No. I get what you mean.”

“You’re still my best friend. And I still love you a lot. I just get to…have you closer now, I guess.”

Shiro smiles. “Yeah. It’s nice.”

They lie in silence for a little bit, Shiro closing his eyes again. Keith drags the blanket up to cover them better, and they snuggle closer.

“What about you?” Keith asks eventually, his voice barely more than a whisper. “When did you know?”

Shiro hums. “A little bit before I had to go to Kerberos. You remember when I got asked out by…man, I’ve forgotten his name.”

“You’re gonna have to try harder, Shiro. You got asked out a lot.”

“After my first trip to Mars.”

“…Ah, right. Yeah. I remember.”

“Well, I was trying to figure out why I kept thinking of you and how you would react when he did.” Shiro smiles at the memory. “I freaked out for about ten minutes, before realising that I was very firmly in love with you. Probably have been all my life.”

Keith shifts next to him, and Shiro opens his eyes to see that Keith’s moved up so that he’s lying on the pillow instead of on Shiro’s chest. His eyes glitter slightly in the dim light of the room, searching Shiro’s own. “You mean that?” he asks quietly.

Oh, how to tell him? How to tell this wonderful man in his arms that he has saved Shiro, over and over, and that Shiro will never be ungrateful for it? It feels as though Keith’s been by his side since he could first breathe, and Shiro knows that he wants Keith by his side for the rest of his life. Despite the fear, despite the uncertainty, that desire is bone deep.

There are no words to tell him. So Shiro will just spend the rest of his life showing him.

Shiro kisses Keith’s cheek softly, and lingers there. “I do,” he whispers, lips hovering by Keith’s ear.

“Keith, I think I’ve loved you forever.”


	11. Epilogue: One Day

One day, they sit on their worn brown couch, in the home they’ve built together on Earth. One day, Keith slides into his spot next to Shiro after dinner, and Shiro raises his arm absentmindedly as he continues reading, so that Keith can tuck himself against him.

One day, they’ll have fought and cried and loved and laughed.

In their distant one day together, Keith turns to Shiro and watches him fondly.

“Takashi?”

Shiro raises his eyes from his tablet. “Hrm?”

Keith smiles helplessly, brushing his fingers through Shiro’s forelock. “Takashi,” he says softly, a prayer and a wish and a promise.

Knowing that there is something going on, Shiro takes off his reading glasses, setting them aside along with his tablet. He takes both of Keith’s hands, kissing one after the other. “Keith.”

And Keith smiles, and looks to him with all the love in the world. “Thank you,” he says, quietly, fiercely, “for sharing your life with me.”

Shiro’s heart flutters. “What brought this on, darling?”

Keith shrugs, brushing his thumb over the back of Shiro’s hand. “Dunno. Was just looking at you, and was thinking how lucky I was. Am.”

“I’m lucky too. Incredibly so.”

Keith smiles. “I just—I’ve been able to make so many memories with you. And you’ve shared so much of your heart with me, and I’m so grateful for it.”

Doesn’t he understand by now?

“Keith,” Shiro says, voice hoarse. “It’s not…sharing.” Keith looks confused, and Shiro loves him so much. He loves him as he tucks Keith’s little strand of hair behind his ear. He adores him when he kisses Keith’s brow. And he will never be safer and more at ease than where he is now, the stars aligned to bring him here in their home together, to where he can whisper his words to Keith, to protect and cherish him forever.

“It was always yours to keep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And...that is it. Thank you for coming along on this ride with me. This story is very dear to me for many reasons, not the least because the characters themselves are very precious to me and this gave me the chance to really explore their potential and who they are in canon. Every comment and smol screm has been very much appreciated, and I hoped you loved this as much as I did. 
> 
> My art hasn't all been posted yet, but I will be sure to link it all here as well as share it all over Tumblr and Twitter when it's all done. Robert and Shia have been lovely, and I will be sure to update this list of art when it's all posted!
> 
> [Pokemon scene from Chapter 1 by Robert](http://overcaustically.tumblr.com/post/164117950422/my-first-piece-for-the-voltronbang-for-psyraahs)
> 
> Also Snow drew me some adorable chibi Sheiths as well for the first chapter (not even as part of the event) for which I am very grateful. 
> 
> [Plushie Sheith scene from Chapter 1 by Snow](https://twitter.com/Snowisdelight/status/900280859311316992)  
> [Keith with his lion plush from Chapter 1 by Snow](https://twitter.com/Snowisdelight/status/900284688706617345)
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I really hoped you liked it. Please let me know what you think if you can, comments are never unwelcome. If you were also interested, I've mentioned this before but I also did a 60k band AU for my Sheith Big Bang piece; if you are so inclined feel free to check it out! Much love to you all. Thank you for your support, and I'll see you next time!
> 
> [Tumblr](http://shiroganedefencesquad.tumblr.com/post/164118033089/its-finally-here-this-is-my-work-for-the) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/starchydreams/status/896546920054759424)


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